It's the fall. Kindergarten has started. And once again, I'm reminded that Bryce is soooooooo not the girls.

Every day, we walk the 45 seconds to school, and even before we've entered the yard, he bursts into enthusiastic waves and shouts of, "HELLO!!!!" to every parent, student, and teacher he sees. Do I know any of these parents? No. Can I tell his classmates apart? Please. Yet somehow, my little boy has managed to shake everyone's hand, learn all their names, and win them over (or at least render himself unforgettable) with his broad smile and loud, charming ways.

Every day, he gets into trouble. We beg him not to touch, spray, squeeze, taste, throw, or basically do ANYTHING without asking us first, yet his fingers are still faster than his sense of caution. A mysterious powder is mixed with a bucket of water in our garage. A bottle of perfume is unleashed in my office. We open the bathroom closet to find exploded cans of shaving cream. To my equal parts pride and frustration, his curiosity runs the show.

Is he earnest, or is that pig-headed stubbornness? Independent thinking or defiance? Bryce is... Well, he's Bryce. He just lost his first tooth and keeps it in his room, a precious treasure on his shelf. I'll glance in the rearview mirror and see him holding his hands up, pretending that he's steering the car while making pbpbpbpb noises under his breath. I raced around our yard this morning, wearing only pajamas and yelling his name because I was terrified that he'd been taken by strangers; he was merely visiting our neighbor. The roller coaster of his life has already made me laugh and cry, and he's not yet six. What else will be in store?

I try not to think about it too much. I honestly can't imagine. Instead, I tell myself not to grip too tightly, not to be so serious, and simply to cherish my impetuous, kindhearted, larger than life son.