Yesterday, I had the most delightful conversation with my favorite five year old on the planet. Five is such a special age; but this little boy takes my breath away. When he was three, he drew me a picture chock full of golden yellow scribbles. I asked him what he called his picture and he said, “Luck. It’s for you.” It hangs on my refrigerator to this day.

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M: So do you want me to tell you something?

Me: Sure!

M: I love birds.

Me: Really? (You can see what a witty conversationalist I am here!)

M: Yes. I love wild birds and pet birds. . .

Me: So, you love all birds, then.

M: Well, no. Not the dead ones. The dead ones make me sad.

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Me: So what is your favorite bird, M?

M: Oh, I don’t think I have a favorite.

Me: I’m very fond of Ravens, myself. And I like Hummingbirds, too.

M: I just don’t see how they survive on only sugar water. It can’t be very good for them.

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M: You want me to tell you something?

Me: Sure!

M: I had a bad dream. I don’t know if it was a nightmare because I’ve never had nightmare in my entire life.

Me: What’s the difference between a nightmare and a bad dream?

M: Well, my bad dream had Harry Potter and Hermione in it. But none of the teachers. And Ron was not there either. Just Harry and Hermione.

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It’s good to be five. It’s even better to be asked, “So, do you want me to tell you something?”