My birthday boy is resting right now, recuperating from a messy incident in the CostCo parking lot last night (more on that later). I cannot believe my firstborn is four. I remember like it was yesterday seeing him for the first time all fresh from the womb and beautiful. I remember sobbing in the hospital while Paul brought the car around to bring us home, feeling so un-equipped be the one responsible for this tiney human's every need. I remember him smelling like spit-up all the time. I remember his first birthday party and how we taught him to say "argh" like a pirate for the occation.
Once he started talking, he never stopped. It is a trait that is at once fascinating and exhausting. He is terminally curious. Rumor has it they grow out of the "why" phase, but if his dad is any indication, the "why's have only just begun. He makes me laugh every day, and he challenges me to learn something new every day.
Right now, I am his very favorite person. Someday he'll replace me with his dad or friends or (gasp, gulp, choke, tear) some girl, but for now, I am the center of his universe. I make his food, buy his clothes, make sure he remembers to change his underwear every now and then, read him stories, take him to the park or Cubbies... Someday, he'll do all these things all by himself and I guess I'll have to deal with that. But now, he's four and he gives the best hugs.