When You Were Four
When you were four you were hilarious.
You picked up on conversations that your father and I thought were over your head.
You were obsessed with infinity though you couldn’t quite grasp whether it was a number or not.
You learned to spell your last name.
You learned your phone number.
You were really brave and didn’t cry when you got your flu shot.
You liked to cuddle while watching TV.
Your favorite color was red.
Your favorite super hero was Spiderman but the Red Power Ranger was a close second.
You thought it was funny to get your younger brother in trouble by making him say bad words like “stupid” and “poopy.”
When you were four you were an amazing artist. You could sit at the table coloring for hours. At Christmas time, you colored a picture of the Grinch flying a rocket into a Christmas tree. I was so proud, I took a picture of it on my phone and bragged to complete strangers about it.
You had roughly a million friends. You told me once that it was because when you didn’t know someone you walked up to them and said “Hi, do you want to be my friend?”
You learned the Pledge of Allegiance.
You saw and understood a map for the first time and were fascinated for hours with the names and locations of different countries.
You wanted to be a pastor, a policeman, a fireman, and a pilot. You were going to work a different job every day of the week.
You wanted to change your name to be your dad’s name when you grew up because you wanted to be just like him.
Being your mom when you were four was awesome.
Tomorrow you are five. I can’t wait.
It’s going to be amazing.