A week ago, you turned five, surrounded by your bestfriends. I remember much earlier in my parenting days, I was so fixated on educating you, obsessively imagining how your brain was developing, bombarding you with rows and rows of sensory trays around our pancake-scented room.
Five years down the road, I realize there's so much more I need to work on within myself first, so much I'm lacking, so much room for betterment. And a lot of times I'm probably learning more from you. If parenting was a textbook, two thirds of it would centre around Patience, and girl - am I failing.
So thank you for entering my life and placing me in this occasionally rowdy but doubly rewarding classroom. Some days I probably want to sleep at the back of the class, but what fun would that be?