Six.

Today is Ethan's sixth birthday. We've been talking for a while now about what he'd like to do to celebrate, and we settled on pancake breakfast in the morning at church, a little rest at home, and then Red Robin for an early dinner so Dad could go into work in the evening.
It was a sweet day with him. He was so excited and thankful for the transformer thing I got him, and his very own journal. "Now we can write stories together, mom!"
He's a thoughtful person. This morning he had made me, Joey, and Noah all pictures and laid them at our doors so that when we woke up we'd be surprised. 
For Christmas he found my absolute favorite book to read to him and he wrapped it, all on his own, with 8x11 computer paper. Then he covered it with a billion Christmas stickers so that it would look like Christmas paper. Then he mad a card, and taped it on. The paper itself was one of my most favorite gifts this year.
He's still learning to tie his shoes, and gets discouraged easily. I try to encourage him but can't help but empathize: as perfectionists, anything that isn't easily perfected is either dismissed or obsessed over. The hardest thing in the world is to work at something that doesn't come naturally, easily. I think I would dismiss the shoe tying too, if I were six, to get on to more important things like Mariokart.
We played together tonight. He coached me, "Mom, small adjustments. Small adjustments!" as I ran Mario off cliff after cliff.
He wants me to sing to him, every nite, "Sleepy Boy", two times. Sometimes he wants me to pray, and and lay with him. He is so independent and smart, I forget how little he actually is.