This is my baby.  Four years ago, I had a 2:30pm appointment to have this baby.  My previous baby, who ended up only weighing 6 lb. 13 oz., would not come out the traditional way, despite 18 hours of labor and 3 hours of pushing.  My doctor was all for trying a VBAC (vaginal birth after caesarian – sorry guys) but a late term ultrasound showed that baby #2 was going to be bigger than baby #1.  And so, I made an appointment to have a baby.  Who, by the way, ended up weighing 7 lb. 12 oz.

With a planned c-section, they want you to deliver at around 39 weeks to avoid going in to labor (which would just complicate things).  My due date fell on a Saturday so my doctor gave me a choice.  Did I want to have a baby on February 2nd or February 5th?  What a weird thing to decide.  Randy and I like even numbers better than odd (which is odd, I know) so we settled on the 2nd.  And besides – it’s Groundhog Day!

So my little, or not-so-little, groundhog.  Who are you at four?  You have some of the same traits you did at three.  Still obsessed with vehicles, especially garbage trucks.  Still very independent with a mind of your own.  Still so big but more tall than stocky these days.  Your hair is less blond (sob!), your belly is a little flatter (sob!), you are potty trained (yay!) and sleeping in a big boy bed (yay!).  We still have a nightly bedtime conversation, but now you always want to talk about birthdays.  We have to start with Thanksgiving, then move through Graham’s birthday and everyone else in our family until we get to yours.  You share your bed with tiger, doggie, giraffe, and blanket – incredibly imaginative names, I know.  After the birthday ritual, you want me to “sweep” with you.  (Your “l’s” are still “w’s”).  I lay next to you and your put your face right up next to mine.  Your big beautiful eyes with their impossibly long lashes so close I can’t really see them.  Breathing softly onto my face.  How is your breath so sweet?

Your facility with language and ability to process complex concepts is astounding to us.  You ask soulful questions and tell long-winded stories with lots of “and then”.  Truthfully, sometimes I zone out while you are talking so I don’t always hear what you say, but I am deeply soothed and satisfied by the sound of your surprisingly high-pitched (for such a big guy) and raspy voice.  There are very few words that you say incorrectly anymore.  Instructions are constructions and umbrella is umbabrella.  Currently you want to marry Stella, a former preschool classmate.  Why?  Because “she has a headband.”  And you never answer just yes.  It’s “I sure do” or “I sure will”.  You are incredibly bright and funny.

I have a million nicknames for you.  Pooky, pickle, noodle, noodley pants, lovey bug, cute face, sweet sweet, yummy yum yum, and my favorite – 2T.  I started calling you that when you were just a year and fitting into 2T clothes.  Now you are four and fitting into 5T.

Recently you asked me, “When Graham and me are grown ups, who are our kids going to be?”  How do you answer a question like that?  You also asked me whether or not your legs came off.  When I told you no and why were you asking, you said, “Well then how did they make me?  Who made me?  You and Daddy?  How did you make me?”  I don’t think you are quite ready for that answer yet.

You might be this guy now.

But you used to be this guy.

And this guy.  Happy birthday my sweet.