Four years ago today, during a humid heatwave that was nothing like the cool damp weather we’re having these days, we unexpectedly found ourselves with someone who wasn’t scheduled to arrive till after the Wicca book proofs were handed in um till after the first draft of the green witch book had been handed in er till the nursery was ready no till we were fully unpacked from the move for another nine weeks.
One…
Two…
Three…
FOUR!
The four-year doctor’s appointment is next Thursday, but we know he’s over a metre tall (he shot up over the winter; all his pants are too short), and we’re betting he’s passed forty pounds. He has been using the toilet all on his own for over a year now, and doesn’t even wear nighttime pull-ups any more. He wears size 4 tops and pants, and size 9 shoes (!!!). We love the complexity of conversation he has with us, and how he’s trying to make jokes, and how he has fun with wordplay and nonsense sounds. He sings with glee and enthusiasm, uses French randomly, counts glibly and adds simple numbers, loves crafts. He still sleeps about ten hours at night and averages a ninety-minute nap, although on special and rare occasions the nap can be forgone without spectacular meltdown, so long as we are quiet when we get home and go to bed half an hour earlier. (Although he has passed out around naptime in cars and at concerts even when told he doesn’t need to try to rest. Case in point, my recital last month: “The cello music was so beautiful I fell asleep.”) The fave foods list can pretty much be reproduced verbatim from last year: Chicken nuggets, sausages, pancakes, waffles, maple syrup, cinnamon toast, freshly baked bread, grapes, blackberries, raspberries, ice cream, blue popsicles, peanut butter sandwiches, pizza, pasta, chicken hot dogs, cheeseburgers, homemade granola bars, Rice Krispie squares, cheese, popcorn, all kinds of crackers and breadsticks, milk, apple juice, sneaks sips of iced tea when he thinks I’m not looking, “coffee†(AKA warm milk with a touch of sugar and the foam from a cappuccino on top), “tea†(AKA cambric tea without the hot water), and creamy yoghurt, with the addition of pork chops, steak, salami sandwiches, shrimp, Polo mints (just about any mint, really, but he asks for Polos by name), and “iced cappuccino” (crushed ice blended with chocolate milk, served with a straw).
Current passions: Transformers, short chapter books at bedtime, playing Go Fish, doing more complex jigsaw puzzles, writing his name everywhere, drawing on his chalkboard, going out for hot dogs and french fries ( “and a bun” he always specifies, as if he’s worried they’ll serve him a weiner alone), Lego (he is currently very proud of the Slave 1 MLG bequeathed to him, and has partially disassembled and reassembled it quite capably), and always trains and cars.
Current challenges: Getting him to use the pedals on his trike (he’s been told that he’s not getting a bicycle until he demonstrates that he can consistently use the trike pedals), getting him to understand why it’s rude to shout at people from windows (especially strangers, even if all you’re doing is shouting a cheerful “hello!”), getting him to focus on identifying letters and sounds if he doesn’t initiate it.
Things we’re very proud of: How well he behaves himself at concerts and in public, how good he is when we give him a five-minute window to play before we finish up or leave wherever we are, how much better he is at eating what we’re eating for supper instead of whining and asking for something else, how clearly he spells his name and how capably he copies words out for cards and such, how appreciative he is of gifts (“Oh, wow, this is aweshome. I’ve wanted one of these for years. Thank you!”), how polite he is when he interrupts a conversation (“Excuse me, Mama… excuse me, Mama…”).
Amusing developments: He’s started narrating the cats. One night at supper Nixie appeared in the window between the living room and the kitchen, right next to the table. She delicately used the table’s corner on her way to HRH’s empty chair. And suddenly, there was a soft running narrative in a little falsetto voice happening from my left: “Hello, don’t mind me, I’m not really on the table, I’m just on my way to this chair, yes, like this, and ooh look there’s my water bowl, I’ll just hop down to it then, thank you!” He narrates Gryff, too, in the same slightly gruff, dorky voice we use for him. It’s hilarious. We laughed till we cried when we first heard it.
He’s just… such a fabulous little boy. Even when I’m exasperated because he’s dawdling over something, I’m fully aware that I’m bothered because his behaviour generally sets a high standard that he can’t possibly maintain 24/7. He starts preschool full-time around mid-August, the last step before kindergarten. We’re so proud of him, of his character and his accomplishments. He’s fun to be with, and we’re so very fortunate to have him as part of our family.
The plan for the day: We switched his day with the caregiver to tomorrow so that we could take him out on his birthday itself. We’re headed to the train museum, then lunch out at St Hubert, otherwise known as the “chicken and french fries restaurant.” There was a party at preschool yesterday (which they handled, bless them), a little party at the caregiver’s tomorrow, and then the actual kids’ party on Saturday. I wonder if it’s possible for Sparky to get birthdayed out.