You are four years old! Imagine that I'm now saying all kinds of cliches about how I can't believe you're already four, and how it doesn't seem like that long ago when we held you for the first time, etc, etc, etc.
Okay, that's enough.
In many ways, you are still the same kid that you have always been. You are still energetic, and will happily spend an hour throwing snowballs, or climbing on a playground, or driving your giant dump truck around the yard. You're still an artist, and you'll happily spend an hour drawing on your magna-doodle. You sometimes have to take drawing breaks while we're reading books or watching DVDs, just to show us what something looks like. One Friday, you brought home a bunch of paper glued together, which you said was the airplane that you had made at school. You're still a scientist, always interested in why the world works the way that it does. I've learned more about human anatomy than I ever knew before. I find myself wanting to know things both for my own benefit, but also so that I can tell you.
And you're still a cuddle-bug. There was one morning when you woke up early, and I was trying to convince you to go back to sleep. I told you to come cuddle up with me on your twin bed. Then you spent the next 15 minutes asking me if I was tired, and if it was time to get up yet, and if it was morning, and why was it still dark out? I gave up and turned the lights on. Some other night, you didn't want to go to sleep yet, so I asked if you needed some extra cuddles and love. So now in the mornings you ask me if it's time to get up yet, or if I need extra cuddles and love.
In other ways, you're a whole new kid every day. Every day you learn more and it shows in your language and ideas. You ask us lots of "what if?" questions, like, "What if a monster crushed our house? What would you do? What would you say?" And I try to give a G rated answer, which (given my penchant for yelling at other drivers) probably doesn't fool you at all. But it seems like you're learning an emotional vocabulary, as well as a driving vocabulary. Last night you fell while climbing out of your twin bed, and afterward you told me that you felt shaky and like your blood pressure was up. So I told you about adrenaline, because why not? You might as well know about it, right?
We did some fun things this month. You and I went to the Bakken Museum, which is a museum all about electricity, and it's history and use. They were doing activities and presentations about your heart, because February is apparently heart awareness month, or something like that. Anyhow, they had little funny robots that would color a Valentine, and a game to see how your heart rate when up with exercise. They also did a presentation about how the heart works and what happens during sudden cardiac arrest (and how to use an automatic external defibrillator, which was actually really useful, I thought). Which is how you ended up volunteering to be part of a heart, passing a ball back and forth to simulate blood flow. I don't know how much you got out of the historical information, but you seemed to pick up the idea about how your heart works.
We also got together with the Stauffers again. They came over one Saturday to play. You, Adrian and the Dads went down to the playground by the school. The weather wasn't bad, but the playground was in the shade, so it was colder than I had expected. I think you would probably have played longer, but the Dads got pretty cold. It's interesting to watch you with Adrian now. When we first met them, you were only two, and there was a big difference between you at 2 and Adrian at 4. Now that you're 4 and almost 6, you're about the same level of coordination and socialization, so you have a lot more fun together.
Your language and coordination impressed the pediatrician at your four year old check up. She pronounced you more than ready for kindergarten, and in fact warned me that you would probably be bored in school. I told her that was already on my radar, having watched some friends and their kids struggle with that same problem. I do worry that you won't enjoy school. Your dad never really did, for a number of reasons. I didn't always like my classes, but school in general was okay with me. I hope that you find school rewarding. I hope that you work hard and have fun. If you succeed at those two things, the rest will sort itself out. And you should always remember, school is not forever, and it's certainly not the only way to learn. You can have fun learning your whole life. We've got the reference books and documentaries to prove it.
And then it was your birthday! You had a rather extended birthday this year. On Friday, your actual birthday, Dad and I came to school with you and had your birthday celebration at school. You got to open presents from Grandma and Grandpa Thorne on Friday, because they came in the mail. Then on Saturday morning, we had breakfast with Grandma and Grandpa Lam, and you got to open presents from them and from us. On Sunday, we remembered that your birthday cake was in the fridge. And today, the second box of presents came from G and G Thorne, so your birthday continued for one more day.
You should note from that last paragraph that you may not want to count on me for good birthday celebration planning. Your father and I tend to be lackadaisical at best when it comes to planning parties or special occasions. It's not because we don't care about special occasions, it's just because we're low-key kind of people. Someday, that might not work for you, in which case I hope you'll tell us. I'm sure one of these years we might manage to condense your birthday celebrating into just one day, instead of four.
Love,
Mom
Dad, being a flower, holding nectar for you, being a bee, to drink:
Pictures that you took, with your new camera from G and G Thorne:
