He is six today and so horrified he insisted for a panicked hour that today is June 19th, not the 20th, and wouldn't hear of happy birthdays--not yet--not while six is so leary and toothsome, and he withdrew from us and sat alone quietly in front of an infomercial and twirled a singing top and sang a little, very softly, forgetting six as much as possible, and I watched him forget and thought that's how I feel most mornings. Not six. Please not six yet.