You're FOUR. FOUR YEARS OLD. A quarter of the way to a DRIVER'S LICENSE. How on Earth is that even possible? Daddy would like to keep you this age forever. While I do like this age, I'm willing to let you get a bit older to see what antics you concoct this year. You're quite possibly the funniest kid to ever walk the planet, and it's been my utmost pleasure spending these last four years with you. Here are your Top 10 lists.
Top 10 Things You Love:
- Eating
- Dancing
- Playing with Charlie
- Tackling Daddy when he comes home from work
- Jumping on the bed
- Putting together puzzles
- Taking pictures (you specialize in off-center, out-of-focus random items)
- Your preschool teacher
- Anything sparkly, glittery, and all-around girly
- Playing at the park
- Brushing your teeth (for someone who likes doing MATH problems, it strikes me as strange that you freak out over brushing your TEETH.)
- Playing by yourself
- Chilli (4 years, going strong)
- Baths (4 years, going strong)
- Bugs (4 years, going strong)
- Loud noises (4 years, going strong)
- Toilets and hand dryers that flush/dry automatically
- Eating your vegetables before I'll give you the fun stuff (mac and cheese, a biscuit, fruit, dessert, etc)
- Santa. And not because you know he's not real. Because the movie Rise of the Guardians freaked you out.
- Avocados. You SAY you don't like them, but I think you're a big, fat faker.
- Writing your name
- Spelling
- Sounding out a ton of words
- Singing lots and lots and lots (and lots and lots and lots ...) of songs
- Being a big ol' sassypants
- Teaching Charlie new things (you especially like telling him about colors and shapes. And 'teaching' him about not touching your stuff. *sigh*)
- Going to the bathroom
- Flossing your teeth
- Making people laugh (seriously, the things that come out of your mouth are enough to crack a London guard)
- Math (adding, subtracting, and counting to 100 are your favorites. *cough*nerd*cough*)
- Staying in bed - after we tuck you in at night, you come back into the living room no fewer than three times with a plethora of problems. You can't find your teddy bear (it's usually right beside you), your blankets are "cattywampus" (no they're not), your mouth hurts (maybe it does - you cry wolf so much that we're not sure whether or not you're for real), you're thirsty (you have a cup right beside your bed), you have to go to the bathroom (then go! You don't need our help!), you're scared of the dark (that's why you sleep with a lamp on), you're wondering what Daddy and I are doing in the living room (eating all the fun food and watching anything other than Strawberry Shortcake). Even though we have a rule that if you get up after we've tucked you in, you get your Big Girl Privileges (all of your stuffed animals [except for one] and books) taken away for the night, you still venture out of bed.
- Focusing on one task (particularly cleaning up). You'll start cleaning up something (blocks, for instance) and then you'll make it into a game where you have to pick up all the yellow blocks first. Then you realize you need a basket to put all the yellow blocks in. So you look for a basket, but realize that your basket is full of your pretend food from your kitchen. So you'll want to make me a 'Clean Up Snack'. While you're making me a snack, you realize that your oven is full of Charlie's toys. So you'll put all of Charlie's toys back in his toy box. When you go back to your kitchen, you see your water cup sitting on the stove. You'll ask for more water. After you have your cup, you'll wander around the living room singing a song about drinking water (probably to the tune of Hark The Herald Angels Sing ["I love drink-ing wa-a-A-ter, *I* love drink-ing wa-a-TER..."). Singing that song will remind you that you want to watch yourself singing "Good Morning" on YouTube. After you watch that video, you'll want to watch videos of when you were younger. When you get to the video where you pronounce an "L" like a "Y", you'll want me to talk about what words you mispronounced when you were little. I will strategically say "yellow", and you'll giggle and say "yey-yow". And then pick up the yellow block. Which will remind you that you were supposed to be cleaning up. (Yes, you are a real life version of "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie").
- Asking a question only once. Holy MOLY dude. You have GOT to learn to give me a chance to answer a question before you ask it again. I realize I don't answer questions as quickly as you'd like, but seriously. My brain can't process "MommycanIhaveasnack?MommycanIhaveasnack?MommycanIhaveasnack?MommycanIhaveasnack?". It makes my brain want to pop out of my head and hide in the closet.
- Hiding your emotions. When you're grumpy, you huff and puff and grouse and sulk and stomp around like a sullen teenager. When you're happy, you squeal and jump and laugh and dance and run around like a crazy person.
- Not getting frustrated. This is when it is confirmed that you're my child. If you can't figure something out the first time, you get super frustrated your whole demeanor changes to mimic Eeyore ("woe is me .... I'll never figure this out ..."). I regret to inform you that you inherited this lovely quality from me. My bad.
- Keeping your toys organized for longer than five minutes. For someone who is as particular as you are, you certainly think it's hee-larious to dump everything from your toy bins (that were so lovingly labeled by yours truly) into one big bucket. Like a gigantic toy fruitcake.
- Apologizing, when it was an accident. You seem to understand why you need to apologize if you were disrespectful; you do not, however, seem to understand that you also need to apologize if what you did was an accident. If you accidentally bump into another child at the park, you need to apologize. If you accidentally kick me in the head in the middle of a Tickle Throwdown, you need to apologize. If you accidentally dump 1/4 cup of brining spices on your brother's head because you forgot to be careful when you were stiring them, you need to apologize. And in each of those instances, you pitched some ROYAL fits over having to apologize. Fits that got you into trouble, when the thing you originally did, did NOT get you into trouble.
- Sitting still when you eat. You're up, you're down, you're turning around, you're shaking your head, you're physically incapable (or so it seems) to be still and eat. I'm tempted to put you back in a highchair. Wearing a straitjacket.
- Being told the 'right' thing to say/do. When you prance around the house singing "Park the herald angels sing ..." and I say "Actually, baby girl, it's 'Hark'", you protest "But I'm doing it the KIDDO way." When you move waaaaaaaaaay too many spaces during Candy Land, and I call you on it, you say "But Momma, this is the KIDDO way of playing. So it's cool. Don't worry."
- Differential equations. Four years, going strong.
A particularly awful thing happened earlier this month. And it stopped me in my tracks (and stopped my heart from beating a few beats). It refocused me and helped me to be thankful for every thing this season of your life throws at me. I'm thankful for your sassiness - it reminds me to thank Bob over and over again for putting up with me through my sassy years (that I still think I'm in ...). I'm thankful for your fits of frustration - it shows me you want to be good at everything you try. I'm thankful for your whiny and/or teary goodbyes when I drop you off at preschool, the gym, or at Sunday School - it shows me you love me and miss me when we're not together. I'm thankful for your incessant singing - it shows me how creative you are, and reminds me how singing is a good, relaxing outlet for you. I'm thankful for YOU, my sweet angel girl. You are so cherished, so loved, and such a little punk. And I couldn't be any prouder to call you mine.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
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