Today is my oldest daughter’s fourth birthday. Though only her fourth birthday, it feels like her twentieth birthday. Four going on twenty — is that a thing?
A child’s fourth birthday is no place to get emotional.
But we may be jumping for joy around here. At least slightly. We’re 50% of the way through “Terrible Threes” in our home, so there’s reason to celebrate. And we’ve noticed a pullback of that three-year-old attitude — this now-four-year-old is significantly more reasonable than she was six months ago.
More than anything, I just want to take a step back and admire the progression of a little human. Here’s our little one four years:
And here’s Boss Emryn four years later:
Children are the absolute best. They push buttons I didn’t know I had. They frustrate in unforeseen ways. They make me want to throw a baseball through the window. (As I type, Boss Emryn will simply not go to bed.)
Then they say “I love you Dad.” Or they give their sibling a hug. Or they count from 1 to 10 for the first time. Or they score their first goal.
And all that frustration is washed away.