As a parent you often think how awesome it is going to be when -- you can insert pretty much anything here, like how awesome it will be when you can eat real food or how awesome it will be when you can walk or how awesome it will be when you can dress yourself. And it is awesome when those things finally do happen. It's amazing on so many levels. But the passing of those milestones is also bittersweet. You will never again stand in orange footed pajamas and look at me with pure joy when you put one tiny foot in front of the other tiny foot and move towards me all on your own. You will never again experience the thrill of being able to button up your jacket all by yourself.
This year you will turn five. As you are currently fond of saying, "I'm four a quarter." You'll say this to anyone who looks in your direction and have even gone up to a few people while their backs were turned to let them know how old you are. I don't remember us having a focused conversation on fractions but you have picked it up somewhere and so now that is what we get, the kid who is four and a quarter years old.
Christmas was most excellent. It always will be as long as I have my way. (Your dad is kind of a grinch when it comes to Christmas. He says it's not a character flaw.) Per usual, Cousin Mia and the family came over for brunch on Christmas Eve. You two have so much fun together. It really is quite lovely having a cousin who lives close enough to see often. We didn't have to ask you twice to sit still so you could open your presents. You are now firmly planted in the "likes to open presents" stage of development. I could not be happier. There are few things I like more than seeing a loved one open up a gift, and that feeling increases exponentially when that loved one is your kid and you just know that this present is going to bring the greatest smile ever. I honestly think you were most happy with the knitted jellyfish I made for you. You named her "Flower" and have been carrying her around the condo. You received the desired forklift and so much more, Bean. I mean, seriously, we're going to have to get a bigger place to house all of your things. You're only four (and a quarter) but you are quickly obtaining more things and it won't be long before you have way more than your father and I have.
You love to play. You love it even more when your papa and I join you. This is difficult for us because, well, we aren't preschoolers. This doesn't mean we won't do it. I found that using the timer is a surefire way to get you to play with me and then give me some space to do my chores without too much fuss. We're starting to see you do more independent play. I love it. You're so inventive and funny and you come up with the coolest scenarios. Your imagination is stocked with good ideas.
Oh, my little one. I have to apologize. But your pops and I, well, we're the type of parents who will wake you up in the middle of the night so you can join us outside when it snows. I like to think we wouldn't do this if we lived in, say, Alaska or Antarctica. But we don't. We live in Portland, and not even the higher elevation part of Portland. Snow at the condo is a rarity. I think you were pleasantly surprised when we got you out of bed and threw you into your snow gear. You became even more so when you found yourself making fresh tracks in the snow, throwing snowballs, and making snowmen. Of course, we followed this up with some hot chocolate before your return to bed about an hour later. I am sure there will come a time when the novelty of snow will wear off, and the thought of your parents waking you up will be more annoying than fun, but for now I'm overjoyed that we get to share these moments with you.
Love,
Mama
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