Four Years Old

My dearest Patrick: You are four years old!


We can hardly believe it. Long past baby-hood, you aren't remotely a toddler, you are a preschooler. A verbal, active, thoughtful, questioning, learning, crazy, happy preschooler. It's been such a big year for you, with so much growth, and Mommy and Daddy love watching you learn to interact with your environment in more sophisticated ways.

Because that's a word that really defines preschoolers: sophisticated.

But before I continue, my Patrick, I need to apologize. You are often the subject of blog entries, or more recently Facebook posts, and it's not often the most flattering. It can be rather a challenge parenting you, as you have taken it as your mission to keep boredom at bay. Then I focus more on our struggles and less on your achievements and gifts. So this letter is about what Mommy really loves about you. Let the gushing commence!

I am so proud of how hard you've worked at what we once called "The Talking Game." You spend all day talking, singing, yelling, questioning, and it cracks me up to hear myself being echoed in your speech. "It's OK sweet girl" (talking to a fussy Fiona in the car) "Not quite yet." "That's a GREAT IDEA Mommy!" "No Mommy, it's good." (when you are about to do something terribly naughty) "This is the LAST TIME I am going to my room" (after you have done something terribly naughty) and my favorite, "I just really love you Mommy." You can also be a very enthusiastic singer! You'll just bump out full lyrics sitting in the car. While you aren't interested in singing with the choir, give you a microphone and you are on, baby!

The bakery ladies at Fred Meyer's are twirled around your finger. We have used the free cookies as an on-going lesson in manners. The cookie drill: First we say, Hello Miss Insert-Name-Here. Then May I Have A Cookie Please? (this is where they offer him two). Finally, the Thank You and Good Bye! In the beginning you were prodded at every step. Now you confidently go through your spiel and even request one for your sister. Over the past year you have received lots of compliments on your manners and overall sweet nature. Can you blame your Mommy for have a glow of pride after Miss Penny at the bakery said, "Your Patrick is one of our favorite kids!"

You have such a big heart and express your love for everybody openly. Everybody gets big hugs, including the dogs and Woof Woof your bedtime lovely. You love your friends, your teachers, Gramma and Mimi Cindy, Nana and Papa, and all your cousins. And you really love your sister. You and Fiona will play, giggle, wrestle (yeesh), and chase each other around until one of you cries or gets really irritated. The joy of siblings. I love all the hugs and snuggles you share. And even though I sometimes just want to get on Facebook, I love that you just want to hang out with us.

Buddy, if I could harness your energy we could solve the energy crisis once and for all. Every play is physical play! And it's loud! Whether you are drumming or building trains, it's a full body investment. Your enthusiasm is infections and I work hard to keep up.


Finally, a funny story about the powers of observation from a four year old: I was nursing Fiona on the couch and you were crawling all over us. Fiona was also performing Nursing Acrobatics, where she contorts her body upside down while continuing to breastfeed. She popped off and gave me a squeeze. Milk sprayed over the two of you. Hysterics. Do it again! And what the heck, I thought. I squirted you both again. Then, the questions:
What is that?
It's the Mommy milk.
It comes out of your nipple.
Yes, it does.
Are there holes?
Yes, the milk comes out of little holes so babies can eat.
Do I have holes? (Now you are observing your nipples)
No, boys don't have holes, only girls so they can feed babies Mommy Milk. But your Uncle Dave has holes in his nipples, ask him to show you! (Perhaps I left that last part out)
Daddy doesn't make milk.
That's right, only Mommy makes milk.

Pause

Daddy makes coffee.

I love you always, my sweet boy. You are my blessing and my treasure.
Mommy