Dearest, sweetest, cuddliest, cutest, munchkinest, puppiest prince,

You are FOUR!  How is that possible?  How have you been here on this planet, making it a sweeter place, for four entire years?  I could have sworn the nurses were just laying six pounds, nine ounces of you in my arms for the first time, but here you are three feet tall and brimming over with joie de vivre, and I really don’t know where the time has gone.

You are SO looking forward to your birthday party at Pump It Up! this weekend.  You’ve been dreaming of this day for months, even before you’d been there yourself.  We walked into a birthday party at the very swank Army Navy Club a couple of months ago, and you looked around at the grand staircase and chirped hopefully, “I think this is Pump It Up!”  It wasn’t, but you got to go the next day (accompanying your sister to a birthday party for one of her friends) and soon you’ll get to sit in the inflatable throne yourself, and I know you’re going to be just gleeful about it.  I can’t wait to watch.

Really, you’re such a fun guy.  You’re getting quite the sense of humor, and you love to tell jokes.  Most of them fall flat, but hey – you’re four.  You always get a laugh out of “Knock, knock!  (Who’s there?)  Fix!  (Fix who?)  Fix the doorbell, it’s broken!”  So that’s your go-to.  But you’re always looking for the next hit.  (Recently: “How do you pick up a house?  WITH ANOTHER PERSON BECAUSE IT’S HEAVY!”  I couldn’t argue with your logic.)

For all I have tried not to press gender norms on you, you are 100% boy.  You love trucks – fire engines, still, and construction vehicles – and boats, climbing on everything, pushing your sister’s buttons, riding your bike, and being attached to my side every moment of the day.  You are a gigantic mama’s boy, and I LOVE it.

You’re sports crazy, and you love working off your puppy energy by kicking a soccer ball all around the field near our house.  You’ve also gotten very interested in football, and Daddy finally has a buddy to watch his beloved Bills with.  You have to wear your Bills jersey almost every weekend, so I guess that’s it.  The next battlefield will be baseball, and this is important: do not listen to Daddy.  This is a Nationals household.

Another love: your sister.  You two fight like cats and dogs, but when you turn on the sweetness, you can really melt hearts.  Lately, she’s been trying to get you to call her “Mama.”  I do not appreciate this.

(See what I mean about the Bills jersey?  We can’t get it off you.)

You’re still a Darth Vader kind of guy, although you’ve expanded your fandoms to include Ghostbusters, thanks to your best buddy, who loves Peter Venkman as much as you love Anakin Skywalker.  Daddy has enjoyed introducing you to the classic Ghostbusters movie and to The Real Ghostbusters cartoon, but we have been less excited about all the nights you’ve spent in our bed due to scary dreams.  You’re probably sleeping with us five nights out of seven these days.  We’re all a little tired, but it won’t last forever, and I for one will miss the snuggles when you’re back in your own bed full-time.  Another recent fandom: the Marvel universe, and Spider-Man in particular.  I think it’s pretty cool that you’re getting into comics, although the last thing we needed was for you to imagine radioactive spiders in your room at midnight.

Here’s another of your recent obsessions: air hockey.  (Thanks, Grandad.)  You cheat on every point and you change the rules whenever you’re losing despite your cheating.  Yet somehow it’s still really fun to play with you.

You’re a total library kid.  We’re at our local branch every weekend without fail – you and me, at least.  Sometimes your sister joins us, but more often, it’s just the two of us.  You love to pull all the stuffed animals (you call them “lovies”) out and scatter them all over the floor, and you insist on checking out at least fifteen books every week.  I hope you grow up to be as big of a bookworm as your sister is.

(These are your “happy feet pajamas,” because you “dance so well in them.”  I can’t explain.)

I think we disagree on one fundamental point.  You see, you think you’re all grown up, and I think you’re still a baby.  When I see you running and jumping and climbing, racing down the hall at school into your classroom, or watching Jurassic World without batting an eye even during the scariest parts, I have to concede that you do have a point… maybe.  But then you fall asleep like this…

…or like this.  And you are SUCH a baby that my heart just explodes.  You’re my gift, my delight, and my heart’s joy.  You have taught me new ways of loving and looking at the world.  Every day I am grateful for the opportunity to be your mom, and I try to be worthy of you.

Happy birthday, buddy.  Thanks for being my boy.

Love,

Mama