Journal: News & Comment

Five

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I don't remember turning five years old, but I remember being five, back in 1974–75. It was the year I started kindergarten (with Miss Young, who parted her long, straight, dark hair in the middle, just like today's '70s stereotypes), and the year I began to learn to read (I liked Joe Kaufman's What Makes It Go, What Makes It Work, What Makes It Fly, What Makes It Float?).

Today my youngest daughter turns five herself. We had her party at home, with many guests, over the weekend. We bought her a little guitar.

She starts kindergarten in the fall, at the same school I (and her sister) did—although none of my teachers is there anymore. She is already learning to read a bit, and to write. She plays piano, and can swim very well. We still have the Joe Kaufman book, and she likes it too, especially the cartoon cutaway of the ocean liner, which was my favourite too.

At five, you're still a kid, but you're not a really little kid anymore. Happy birthday, kid.

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