Four

My baby is four.
This baby:



Oh, have I used this picture here before? It is my most favorite photo ever in the whole entire world. This morning we sat on the couch and looked at these photos and talked about how delighted we all were when he was born. I thought telling his birth story would be nice, but then I remembered what an awful story it is. Worth it, I know. But not really what I want my boys to reference for the miracle of childbirth.

He wanted a 'birfday party wif friends' this time. He is FOUR, after all. A John Deere party, he decided, but then later changed it to 'corn party.' Little farmer boy. So we used green and yellow decorations and filled two tubs with corn for the kids to scoop, drive through, and dance in. By the end I was thinking we'd be living in a 'corn house' for the rest of our days but it actually cleaned up pretty easily. The whole thing was wild and wonderful, and I love my friends so much, and my family so much, and I can't believe it has been four years since our littlest boy was born and our little family made complete.

I love you, Evan. You are determined and stubborn and exuberant and brilliant and helpful and fearless. I still love sleeping next to your warm little body on those nights we're all just too tired to get you boys all the way upstairs. Your little self conforms against mine just the way you did all those months you were growing inside me and all those months (years) after when you could only be soothed by the warmth of your mama. Yesterday I was helping you with something and teased "Sometimes you just need your mama." "And sometimes I don't" you answered matter-of-factly. No you won't, darling boy, but I will be here when you do.