What it Means to be Four

(But before the photo expose on the life and times of four year olds, please walk down Memory Lane with me. I can't believe how fast my little guy is growing up!)

{First Birthday, 2008}

{Second Birthday, 2009}

Look at that blonde hair!

{A very happy Three and a Half Birthday, 2010}


And now here he is, one grown-up four year old. Can you believe it? And what happened to the blonde hair??? He is mostly brown-headed now. A few highlights remain, but they are fading. So sad.

*Sniff, sniff*

Ahem. I'm ok. Really.

*Clears throat*

Now with no further ado, what it means to be four:



Being four means playing with pretend snow in the livingroom when it's too cold and rainy to play outside.

It means exploring the nether regions of Wal-Mart . . .

. . . and discovering exactly what sort of things hide behind boxes of toilet paper.

It means being silly and making Mommy laugh . . .

. . . by using common household items in ways the manufacturer probably never intended.

Being four means imagining up an Animal City, complete with cars and buildings.

And when the Flood comes, it means rescuing all the animals on an aircraft carrier.

Being four sometimes means getting into things you probably shouldn't have.
{Acrylic Paint, Thanksgiving 2010}

How much more fun is it to make messes that are planned and approved by the Mommy?
{Shaving Cream, just a few days ago}

Being four means adventure and fun and life lived to the fullest. It means enjoying every single day and getting excited about the little things. It means sharing that joy and excitement with others.

Not sure if Rexy agrees with that last statement. I think he might rather have avoided the whole "shaving cream incident" as his plastic counterparts now call it. Not sure you'll ever live this one down, Rexy. You have my sympathies.

Lastly, being four means playing hard and crashing hard.

Little boy, you are absolutely precious when you sleep. I will probably think this no matter how old you are.

Yes, life is good at four. But grown-up. Oh, so grown-up!

You get yourself yogurt and a spoon without help.

Any time of the day or night when a yogurt craving strikes your fancy.

You take medicine from the tiny plastic cup instead of a dropper.

Though you don't get sick often.

You're already three and a half feet tall and zoning in on fifty pounds.

But you still love to snuggle and be held. Oh, I hope you don't outgrow that for a long time!

You chatter and talk and inform us of all sorts of things throughout the day. The robot hiding in the trees, for example, or the fact that you're "too sick" to go to church but "feel better!" when you want to hike instead.

We love hearing every single word. We waited so long for you to talk!

So happy Four, Caleb! Your Daddy and I love you and we're so proud of all the growing you've done this last year. New adventures await you now.

I can't wait to see what they will be.