Yearly Letter #4, JLC

Dear Johnny,

Yesterday, August 5, 2007, exactly 5 days after you turned four, will go down in history as the day you officially learned how to ride a bike without training wheels. I got back from an hour-long yoga class, and there you were, in our street, with Daddy starting you off and Grace cheering you on, riding your bike, all by yourself, without training wheels. When I saw you, when I actually saw you riding and concentrating and your face just beaming at your accomplishment, I screamed. I screamed just like I did when Grace's first tooth came out, because, I mean, this was huge. Huge. I told you I was soooo proud of you and you asked over and over, "Are you super proud of me, Mommy?" Yes, Johnny. I'm super proud of you. I don't know what made yesterday the magic day, but I think it had something to do with your new skateboard and your motivation to go ahead and get the bike thing down so you could move on to skateboarding then skiing, then snowboarding and then surfing. Yeah, at the tender age of four you're already an extreme sports little guy, our little J-Dog.

The thing about you and being four is that no one really can believe that you're only four. When you were one you looked two, when you were two you looked three, three, four, and, well, you get the idea. It's like ever since you came out, you've been racing to grow up and get big. I remember nursing you at, like, only 6 weeks, and I could not get over just how strong you were. I think that's why I hold on to those times in the day when you want me to sit beside you on the couch and watch "SpongeBob" and give in to the requests to sleep beside Daddy and me so you can pinch my arm and I can rub your back. And your pleads not to trap you, because when you ask me not to trap you, you're really begging me to roll around on the floor with you and trap and tickle and laugh with you, and as long as you keep asking me to do that, I'm going to do it.

I don't know exactly when it happened--somewhere between the daily routine of morning juice and cereal and just one more story at night--but somewhere along the line you got old enough to ask about the cute things you did and said when you were a baby. Or you'll pick up a toy and ask, "Is this one of my two-year old toys?" I just can't believe how fast you're growing up, but I'm loving it all the while. I love how your mind works literally, like mine, and that when I suggest that we work on "handwriting," you assume that I mean writing, or tracing, over your hand. I mean, why wouldn't I mean that? And when I say that I'm afraid "People Falling Down" isn't on tonight, you ask why I'm afraid. You want to understand everything and figure everything out--even down to why one of the wild things in Where the Wild Things Are has people toes rather than monster toes.

You have an incredible mind, and you amaze Daddy and me daily with the things you reveal. Not long ago, you, Grace and Daddy were at Weaver Street and you met a rock-n-roll guy that had a cool dog. On the way home, no one could remember the dog's name. You couldn't remember the dog's name, but you remembered something you saw on a Wiggles show earlier. You began describing a game they were playing with a paddle and a ball, kind of like golf, but with a flat paddle. Daddy instantly got it: Cricket. Cricket! Yes, Cricket was the name of the rocker's dog. We will be telling that story for years to come.

I know that as a just-minted four-year old it's not always easy to share and that you get really cranky still when you don't have a nap. And even though I look back daily and miss something you've outgrown, I won't miss the day you outgrow your whining, impatience and insistence that we buy you a toy every time we go into a store. I feel your strong personality, strong body and strong mind will eventually take you far in life. It's your heart, however, that I want to be strongest of all. And it's already getting a good workout. That's evident when you tell grown-ups that are helping Grace take a band-aid off to "do it fast so it won't hurt as much" and when you made the connection that the reason I screamed when Grace's tooth came out (and now when I saw you riding a bike for the first time) is the same reason that the parents are crying on the first day of school in the book, The Night Before Kindergarten. And that is "because the kids are growing up, right, Mommy?" Right, Johnny. Because my kids are growing up.

Love,
Mommy