Is that right?  It hardly seems so.

A few hours passed in a sleepless blur…

…and then you were one.  Four teeth, on the brink of taking those first steps.

I blinked and you were a walking, talking two year old.

I read your favorite book and glanced up…you were three.  Brimming with creativity, opinions and attitude!

We played a round of hide and seek.  When I found you, you were four.  Like this little tiny grown up.  At least you like to think so.

It is incredible how quickly time passes.  I don’t notice it day to day, but when I look back in all that you’ve accomplished in four short years, I feel amazed, proud, and a little bit sad.  You are a “preschooler” now, no longer do you fall under the “toddler” category.  I dread the day when I have to cross the border at Walmart.  You know, the one between the baby section and the boys.  Or when you no longer fit the “Baby” clothes at stores like Old Navy and Gap Kids.  I just need a little bit longer to savor little feet and dimpled hands.

Somewhere along the way this past year, you learned to dress yourself.  I can do it myself.  Demanding independence, yet screeching for help out of frustration.  You learned to count much higher and took to a fascination in reading numbers.  Mailboxes, signs, houses, you had to know what the number said.  Then came letters.  Almost like magic, you know what nearly every word starts with.  The favorite overheard ‘rest time’ phrase now is “Moooom.  I have an important word that starts with <insert letter here> …pause… <insert word here>”  You officially gave up napping.  I stopped fighting to get you to sleep for a nap, and a lot of the nighttime struggle cleared up.  We’ve managed to find a careful balancing act with a ‘rest time,’ which gives you enough down/quiet time during the day to not be a holy terror by bedtime.  You sit in bed and “read” books that you have memorized.

You are so preoccupied with being grown up.  You want to eat as fast as we do, be as tall as we are…at least you still seek my comfort from a villain like Cruella Deville.  You love to help with all the grown up tasks.  I wish I thought it was half as fun as you do to toss laundry in the dryer or start the dishwasher.  Vacuuming is a favorite.  You get so carried away, you can’t help but run and laugh the whole time.  Your new found friend is my new found cordless stick vacuum coming in at about three pounds.  You live to kill the battery in that thing.

Despite the rush you are in to grow up, you still see it unfit to stay in your own bed past 3am through the night.  Shhh.  Don’t tell anyone.  I love it.  I read a 300 page book about toddler and preschool sleep solutions.  I learned  a lot.  Including that I cherish the time I have with you and I wouldn’t change it for the world.  On occasion, I actually manage to sleep through you crawling across me.  I realized that no longer having a middle of the night visitor will be a bittersweet day.

It seemed like one day, you woke up and just had to know why.  Why the sky was blue.  Why toilets flushed.  Why dogs have fur.  Why our ceilings are white.  Why, why, why.  You exhaust me with questions every day.  I have to remind myself that the whys are essential to homeschooling and a love of learning.  But sometimes my brain hurts by 11 am the end of the day.

You make me smile.  Every day.

You make me laugh.  Every day.

I was watching from the kitchen a few days ago as your dad had a stern talk with you.  I don’t even remember the subject.  The late afternoon sun was pouring in the door directly behind the two of you.  You were standing in the doorway glaring up at him silently with your hands on your hips and a defiant lip poked out.  However inappropriate a time it was for a picture, I sure do wish I could have snuck a snapshot of that moment.  Instead I stiffled my giggles and just watched, capturing it in my head.

Last night I gave you extra hugs and kisses, which would probably be closer to 8 hugs and 30 kisses, rather than the regular, say, 3 and 20 I usually give, respectively. I knew when I saw your bright eyes next, you’d be four.  As I hugged you close, you said “I love you sooo much Mommy.  I even love you in my sleep.”  I said, “Oh yeah?”  “Yep,” you replied. ”Sometimes I say I love you while I’m sleeping.”

I’ll see you in our dreams.  Happy Birthday Bud.

Comments

3 Responses to “four years old”

    Scott
    April 1st, 2009 6:02 am

    My little man is all grown up

    Amber
    April 1st, 2009 8:57 am

    Can I have a tissue? How hilarious are the magnets? That poor little kuala bear straddling the gap!

    Val
    April 1st, 2009 8:48 pm

    Happy Birthday Caleb! 4 years old is awesome!

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