Yesterday I was sitting in the living room eating a protein bar. Kai was eyeing it so I asked him if he would like one too. He’s five now, so of course his answer wasn’t just “yes,” instead he told me to wait there and he would go to the kitchen by himself and get his own snack.

Of course.

Because being five means that you do everything yourself even the things you shouldn’t attempt and of course all of the things that make his father and I think, oh my god why is he trying to do that himself doesn’t he know he’s only five??  Independence is awesome. Bull headed independence with no experience or wisdom to back it up is terrifying. Five might give me a heart attack.

Kai went into the kitchen without turning on the light and headed towards what I thought was the pantry. Instead, I heard him moving along the counter and then a rustling near the bread basket, followed by the sound of shattering glass.

Paul and I had the millisecond look of shared terror before we both instinctively screamed “don’t move! don’t move!” into the dark kitchen while leaping up because we heard movement and gave each other the even more terrified oh my god he’s totally moving isn’t he?  face.

Already my mother brain was imagining all of the worst possible scenarios: a shoe-less five year old covered in broken glass, a trip to the ER, stitches, etc. What I didn’t expect to see was my five year old racing out of the dark kitchen… clutching two limes.

Huh?

He was visibly freaked out and panting, clutching these two limes as those his life depended on it. As we neared him he said, “I saved the limes! I knew this would happen and so I saved the limes!!”

What. the… huh?

I checked him over and fortunately he was wearing shoes. Shoes! Hurray for shoes! I don’t know why he was still wearing them. We had been home for nearly 30 minutes, and normally his clothes explode off of him the second we walk in the door. It’s kind of amazing really. I will be just setting down my keys and somehow he’s in his underwear. For some reason, he was still fully dressed. No cuts, no glass on him, he was okay… but the deal with the limes? I don’t know.

I hugged him to me (still clutching those limes), calmed him down, and told him we didn’t care about the glass, only his safety. He looked into my eyes with all the sincerity in the world and in his proudest voice told me, “I’m so happy I saved those limes.”

I nodded knowingly.

Paul asked him, “why did you get the limes, did you want to eat a lime?”

“No,” he said very matter-of-factly, “I wanted a protein bar, I just saved the limes.”

Right. Yes. The limes needed saving and he saved them.

I hugged him again and reminded him that when a glass breaks he should stand still and never run over it. Then I got him his protein bar (out of the pantry, not the bread basket) and sat him out of the way while we cleaned up.

Paul was sweeping and caught my eye, “limes?” he whispered.

I shrugged and we laughed hysterically.

I still don’t know what the deal is or was with the limes, but they now have a place on honor on the kitchen counter. These aren’t just any limes, these limes were saved.

Five, it seems, is going to be full of over confidence, near misses, and downright weirdness. It feels like when Kai first learned to walk: he charged forward and I scrambled around him clearing the path. He got to do the walking, I got to race around him making sure he didn’t fall and keep him safe. This is five: a big giant baby charging forward and me scrambling just out of sight letting him think he’s doing it all by himself.

I’m still learning about the insanity that is five. In the meantime there is something I do know for sure: in this house, the limes will always be safe.

Ava Love Hanna

Ava Love Hanna

Ava Love Hanna is a writer, storyteller, and performer in Austin, Texas. She really, really wants you to use the Oxford comma.
Ava Love Hanna