Already 5, 5 Already

Already 5. How can it be?

We're in the most amazing hotel suite I've ever been in. It might be the most amazing hotel suite that I've ever imagined (I don't imagine hotel suites often, so it's possible). It's amazing. The King sized bed is just a hair bigger than the SHOWER. Yes. I said it.

The room was 2000 square feet, 1000 of which was shower. No kidding.

Unfortunately, Paint doesn't have anything but basic stupidity with which to draw-- no glitter, no marble for the counter tops, no hardwood flooring or diamond encrusted faucets, so you'll have to imagine those yourself. Suffice it to say I felt like a queen the whole time we were there.

Why were we there? Husband's cousin got married in California in Justin Bieber's backyard that goes to the beach. I don't have to tell you the DJ had a pretty limited playlist, in that we were at the Bieb's house and all, but who doesn't like JB anyway? Plus we got to hear Carly Rae Jepsen's song, and the couple of Selena Gomez hits. It was a swingin' night.

Where was I? Oh yes, it's already 5. See, Cali is 3 hours behind our normal time zone, so while 8AM is sleeping in for the kidlets here in Canadia, 5AM is the equivalent  to 8AM and here we are: Kiddo #2 gently caressing my cheek while Kiddo #1 tells me the most exciting news since Tom and Kate's upcoming divorce.

"Momma!" It's the whisper-breathy sound of her cute little 5 year-old voice that I hope I remember for the rest of my life. "Momma! Momma! Guess what? I have a wiggly tooth!" She's whispering because it's 5am and Husband is (the only one) still sleeping. She's so dang sweet I think MY teeth are wiggling.

I whisper-congratulate her and check the tooth and she's correct. Wiggly Tooth. Holy crap. Her bestie from JK lost a tooth just a week ago, but she's almost 6 months older than Kiddo #1 so I really wasn't expecting this until at least Christmas.

When her Bestie lost her tooth Kiddo #1 was happy for her friend; she was devastated when her own teeth refused to budge, however. Dismayed at the rock solid nature of her teeth, she stopped brushing them under the pretext that everyone "brushes their teeth so they don't fall out."  Oh the logic of my Math Award winning 5 year-old. At 3 I was pretty sure she's smarter than me; at 5 I know it now for sure.

I took some time, though, to underscore that some kids don't lose teeth until they're 6 and even 7 so that Kiddo #1 would stop playing Lacrosse without a mouth guard in the meantime.  However, it seems the Tooth Fairy is the only one in charge of both convincing and controlling Kiddo #1's oral hygiene.

Fortunately, Tooth Fairy smiled down on me and loosened Kiddo #1's tooth just enough to make it wiggly, but not enough to make us have to figure out what the Tooth Fairy leaves in exchange for the tooth in the middle of a vacation. Thanks, TF.

I didn't think I was the sentimental type, either. Maybe I'm hormonal or maybe it was the jet lag or that it was  already 5, but when Kiddo #1's tooth really was, actually, for real, wiggly, it made my heart ache. I had to take a shower in the biggest shower in the whole world to take my mind off it.

I think the shower is as big as those mountains. 

Truth be told, my shower looked a lot like the Sound of Music, minus the clothes and plus the singing. Oh, plus the singing.

5AM be damned, if I'm gonna rock out in the biggest shower in the world while trying to sing a song to make my sad heart feel happier at my daughter's wiggly tooth, I'm busting out "Climb Every Mountain," only with random lyrics about the wedding at Bieb's house and my daughter's tooth. I'd rewrite the lyrics for you, in my normal parody style, but honestly, I don't remember much between the twirling, the slipping on the wet tile, the legs in the air while my awesomest high note reverberates off the tile and glass bathroom fixtures. And diamond faucets. Don't forget how a High C sounds coming off a diamond faucet. And my face in the drain. Note to self: twirling while in slippery, sudsy shower and singing "Climb Every Mountain" is not the worst idea ever, but it's pretty close.

Despite the operetta going on in the bathroom, Husband managed to stay (fake) sleeping until I towel dried, got the kids dressed and out the door to hunt for seashells in the wee hours of the morning.  Down, down, down to the beach we went with buckets and hope.

I found out later, from Husband's other cousin, that our shell-search was going to be difficult at best because California has sand shipped in from Arizona in exchange for California's trash; if there is a better deal out there, tell me because up to now, I can't imagine any better deal exists in the universe.

Turns out though, when you're 5 and not-quite 2, the random rocks and random sized shells are all you need to pass an hour and a half on the beach at 5am.  Especially if your Momma can hardly see through the tears collecting in her eyes while she watches her babies hold hands along the beach, stopping every once in a while to examine a shell, or a set of pelican tracks. Or to build a sand castle. Or to let Kiddo #2 feel her wiggly tooth, proudly, while Kiddo #2 jumps up and down in excitement for her.

5 already.