Alas, you have appeared to inherit several unfortunate qualities from your dear mother. The most prominent one is your coordination. Or lack thereof. A few weeks ago, in the span of a mere two hours, you managed to clock your neck on one of our dining room chairs (you tripped walking to it and you caught your fall with your neck), fall off your bike (you changed your mind too late on whether or not you wanted to turn the corner. You decided to turn; your bike didn't get the memo), and slam your forehead into the handle of a shopping cart at Walmart (you were walking and gazing longingly at some super-fun [read: disgusting] snack that I wouldn't buy. I had stopped the cart, but much like your bike, you didn't get the memo). Thankfully, your lack-of-coordination is dwarfed by your overwhelming charm and impeccable sense of humor (you got those from me, too.) (In case you were wondering, you got your mad dance skillz and your beautifully thick hair from Daddy, among other things).
Despite the mishap of falling off your bike, and you proceeding to fall another two or three times this month, you LOVE riding. You could think of nothing better than to throw on your helmet (that's made for the head of an EIGHT YEAR OLD, by the way - it was the only one that fit your gigantic melon) and ride along the sidewalk. You usually sing a riding song (some delightful little diddy, sung to the tune of Hark the Herald Angels Sing) as you carefully pedal. At the beginning of last month, you needed lots of help - and now? You're pedaling more confidently, steering around big sticks and turning around in tight spaces without any problem. We've been going to the park a lot and you love riding your bike around the sidewalk while I play with Charlie on the playground. Periodically, you'll hop off your bike and come play with us. But you insist on keeping your helmet on. Safety first, my girl.
You've gotten to be quite the little speller. Some of our good friends had a baby recently and you wrote a card to their oldest daughter (big sisters gotta support other big sisters, ya know). You actually wrote several notes to her. They were beyond adorable. One of them said (something along the lines of) "I love you as much as Natalie dus." While the note doesn't make 100% sense, I loved that you spelled everything correctly except "dus". Because 'dus' is the way it sounds to a four-year-old! It's actually the way it sounds to a 32-year-old, too.
In addition to made-up bicycling sons, you've also started making up songs to sing before we eat. You had stuck with the same blessing for a while, but now, you've decided to branch out and make up your own words to, again, Hark the Herald Angels Sing. This is one of the variations:
Thank you Lo-ord for this foo-od
that you give us, Lord, today.
We thank you for healthy fo-od
That Momma buys from the grocery store.
We thank you for healthy food ... and for all the Earth You made.
I know I'm supposed to bow my head close my eyes during a blessing, I know I am. But I just can't. I can't NOT look at you coming up with lyrics off the top of your head about how thankful you are to God. So I look. And I smile. And I soak it all up. Because you won't be four forever. You won't make up blessings forever. You won't have this enviable innocence about the world forever. So I look. And I smile.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for April 1, 2013:
- 75-Car Pile-Up Kills at Least 3
- Stars Join Obama for Easter Egg Roll
- Hospitalized Mandela Has 'Restful' Easter
- US Sends F-22 Jets to South Korea
- Full face transplant recipient marries burn victim
- The two best and funniest parents in the history of the world celebrate their seven-year anniversary (booyah)
No comments:
Post a Comment