Dear Collin,
Four years ago you came into our lives- a whirlwind of new
experiences that we had no idea how to prepare for. You were everything to us,
so tiny and small. So new and complete in our lives. Its funny how new parents have no perspective
about the rest of the world, all that
new-mom dopamine cruising through my veins, focusing all my attention on
you.
But here we are, amazingly, at 4 years old. It almost breaks
my heart that you are four. I don’t know how we got here really. It feels like
just yesterday we were leaving the hospital.
This year has been one of all kinds of accomplishments and
adventures. You’ve made your way through a year of preschool, two nannies, and
two moves. You’ve tested every strand of my patience and made me burst with
pride I didn’t know I could have.
This year you’re working hard toward reading, exploring what
makes you the most excited about life -- currently: dinosaurs and others as a
close second, bugs, sharks and whales. You’ve made your first real friend, Emmett,
different from the other classmates you seek each other out and its adorable to
see your friendship blossom. You’ve grown to care about Owen as only a big
brother can and your vocabulary has climbed to new heights with amazing new
phrases and thoughts.
This year though, I have to admit, wasn’t the easiest in parenting.
In some ways you are exactly like me- stubborn and quick all at the same time.
In other ways I have such a hard time understanding you- you have a hard time
focusing on things, which I struggle to have patience with and you rarely
listen on the first try, which is for lack of a better word: exhausting.
Nevertheless, this year you made my heart smile in so many
ways. You took your first bike ride, stayed up for your first fireworks (which
you loved!), ate your first s’more, caught your first fish and had your first
sleepover away from us. You took up an interest in coloring (which is new, you
used to really dislike coloring and art) and focused much of your energy on
studying the species and lives of different kinds of animals.
You’ve found your swing in preschool, but at the same time
tested Montessori methods to their limit. You taught me to be more accepting of
the moments that are difficult and learning to work with you through them,
rather than facing all the frustration on the opposite side.
These days your life is expanding toward independence. You
wake up around 6:30 am and find your way to my bedside. While we lived in the apartment this was just
in the next room, but now that we are in the new house though, its down a few more
halls. You saddle up next to my bedside and ask to snuggle in with me until the ripe window shows all of 7:00 am. For you it feels like the longest half hour of quiet time-- you're sequestered to either laying next to me quietly or looking at books. Then they day begins, wild and wonderful all at once.
With Owen on your heels, we're headed to breakfast which is almost always bagels or cereal and fruit. You are always anxious for the end of breakfast- your vitamins which you think are the bees knees. As you finish your breakfast you work to remember your manners, usually asking to be excused, but not without a few reminders. Soon after breakfast we wander up to your bedroom (or while we were at the apartment, back into your room) so you can get dressed, which is an independent adventure of picking out clothes and trying to find a fun method to fling your clothes to the laundry chute. Then its on to play time, because now its summer. But during the school year, after breakfast comes teeth-brushing, back-pack packing, and shoe velcro-ing as we packed up and headed to the classroom.
But during the summer, its a free for all of play. Mostly with Owen, mostly outdoors if the weather agrees, except for on days we meet with your friends at the park or the beach, but always busy and nearly always fun (except for on the days with lots of time outs. Those I imagine, weren't so fun.)
After the fun settles, its on to lunch, and luckily for us, you still, most of the time, take a nap in the afternoon. After nap, you find your way into lazy summer afternoons with more play, parks and sand. Because this summer was the big move back to the house, there is lots of yard work to be done, and you really like to be right in the thick of it. Around 7:30 you hit the hay again, to start all over with adventures in chapter books singing you along to dreamland. Currently a classic: Stuart Little.
You are such a little person now though, which makes your everyday experiences seem like moments of opportunity. Tiny glimpses of getting to see what you might be like as an adult. You can be so kind and compassionate to Owen and others-- there are times when I catch you being so sweet, and I triumph that our efforts in parenting are working. You're also incredibly curious and genuine in your interest in finding things out. Everyday we hear "what does that mean? Why? or Who's that?" without end. You're also so incredibly social, giving compliments to everyone around you. I love hearing you say "I like your shirt!" or "You look nice today!" With those compliments in hand you can fuel happiness.
You are gregarious, but less confident as an athlete, hesitant to dive into team sports. At home though, you'll use the tee until dark and chase balls into the neighbor's yard with reckless abandon. You have such a compassionate heart, and feel empathy unlike many toddlers and preschoolers I know. When you see someone in a storyline heading for heartache or disaster you too share their feelings and often cower into my arms or shed a tear for their troubles. I have to convince you its only a story and that things will be okay. You love to jump off things and climb up things- testing new waters with the heights you take and confident moves you make. You are such an amazing little person, and I'm so very lucky to get to witness it all as your momma.
And so, the fourth year comes to a close and my heart aches a little bit more for the moments that are passed. Sometimes our days are trying: whiny voices, tears, time outs and I admit I forget that even in those very moments, a few months forward, I'll miss it. I'll miss exactly who you are at 4. Growing pains and all.
I love though, watching you become your own person, and so without hesitation, I also welcome this new fifth year, because amazing things will happen, I am sure. How could they not, with such an amazing and wonderful son to share the journey with?
all our love.
Momma and Daddy
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