Five Is Where It's At. Almost.

Ian speaks to me from under the collar of a long-sleeved t-shirt (without buttons, of course).

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Mom? Mom?" I grab a stringy arm and stick it in its designated arm hole. "Mom? You know what?"

"I have absolutely no idea what."

His voice comes back muffled, but defiant. "Five-year-olds can do whatever they want."

Really? I pull the shirt down and it pops over his head. His wispy blonde hair fluffs up into a Kramer-esque stand at attention. "Who told you that?"

"Caroline. She's seven." Caroline is Rebecca's older sister. Rebecca of last year's preschool love affair. I've learned that Caroline has more authority over Ian's tiny brain than I do. Lucky her.

I pull his Levis up over his tighty-whities. He wiggles his legs into them. I stop myself. "Hey, if five-year-olds can do whatever they want, I guess you can dress yourself." I have a cup of coffee getting cold in the kitchen. I stand to go get it. Ian gapes at me with his knees locked together by the fly of his jeans and grips my wrist as I start to leave.

"No!" he yelps. "I can't dress myself."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to. I only want to do what I want."

I sit back down. I knew this was too good to be true. "Ian, I have news for you. Even I don't get to do what I want." Ian looks crushed by this revelation. How can this be? I'm the grown-up. Don't I get to skip through the mall all day long with a lollipop in my mouth, buying myself things. Of course I do. In a parallel universe where there is no such thing as debt, the county jail, or calories.

"How come?"

"Just because. I have to do what a lot of other people want me to do, and sometimes what I want, but usually that almost never happens." Now he looks sorry for me. "But you have it easy now, Ian."

"Easy?"

"Yeah. You only have to do one thing."

"What's that?"

"Anything I say."