TOPAZ HORIZON

Everyone says Piero is my favorite. He's not. He's just my last. My last baby. That's really what it is. You push the first two out into the world. You hold back the last. It's a selfishness I relish while I still can. Sooner than I want, this littlest one will be launched into the world, too. And I'll be left behind. As I should. 


I mean, he just turned 5 last month! And in the one month since, he already thinks he's some hotshot conquering the world! This kid. Always hurrying up. Always thinks he's the biggest person in the room. Always thinks he knows best.


For his birthday, he wanted it at home. I insisted, "Don't you want to have a party at your preschool like your kuyas did?"

"Nope," he answered with derision. "Why would I spend my birthday with people I don't know?"

Why indeed.


He said he wanted an all-Oreo party because that's his name. "Don't you know my name, Mama?"

"I think I should know it given the fact that your Papa and I gave it to you."

"Well, it's not Piero. It's Pi-OREO!" Then he laughed at how clever he is. "I'm an Oreo Monster!"

So we had an Oreo ice cream cake, Oreos to eat with the cake, and Oreo ice cream sandwiches after! We had Oreos all frikkin' July because the Oreo Monster said so. And because he's my baby ("I'm not your baby anymore, Mama. I am FIVE!"), I buy him all the Oreos he wants. Every week.

(Send us Oreos please!)

For gifts, he didn't want a lot. Just some play clay and raccoon plushies. "That's also my name, Mama. Piero RACCOON Sales. Didn't you know?"

I didn't! What kind of a mother am I, I muse, as I take note that I have a wild animal as a son now. And just like a raccoon, Piero raids the ref and the cookie box all day long, he's aggressive, and he loves holing up in the dark like in his closet or in his pillow fortress with all his plushies.


Piero is, in many ways, the son who's exactly like his parents. It's fascinating—and worrying—how he has all our stubbornness, moodiness, and bad temper. But of course, right? He's our son. (How come the first two are also ours but aren't like us then?) I'm so glad Piero came to Vince and me because we know exactly how to deal with stubbornness, moodiness, and bad temper. Imagine if the stork had brought him to sweet and innocent parents??? He'd eat them alive. 

Well, to be honest, there were a couple of years back then when Vince and I also thought we wouldn't get out of this alive. This Piero! Our feral child! With our first two boys, they loved us immediately. With this littlest one, I always felt we had to earn his love and approval. How weird is that!

But we did it. We became better at parenting and now we have the sweetest little boy—just like his kuyas! Happy, loving, affectionate. We survived!!! Four is actually my most favorite age. And last year was wonderful! That was when we finally knew how to dance around each other and when I said to myself, "After 4 years, I think we've finally earned his respect!"

So 5 is fantastic! Piero still has a lot of moments when he'd say, "Why are you in my room? I want to be alone, Mama." Darling, you're 5! Why do you want to be alone? But because Vince and I are also loners ourselves, we understand and back off. He's the one most like Vince and me! 

Happy birthday, my wild one. You are the one who humbled me, who keeps me on my toes! You are exactly what our family needed and I wish I could keep you little forever because one day I will need to unleash you into the big wide world and they will think you are too much. Too honest with your words and emotions, too brave, too smart, too independent, too self-assured. And that's you at 5! Imagine that. What will you be like at 10, 15, 20 and beyond? We are already so proud of what you'll become!