Fantastic Four

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By the time this goes up my Little Man will be four years old. Or nearly so. Whatever cocoon we may have been in is breaking away, as walking and running and jumping are all old hat. Conversation becomes clear and incredible. The world awaits.

As the tantrums become less frequent and diapers begin to go the way of the dinosaur, I begin to see him not just as my child, but also as a person in the world who just happens to be hanging with me for a while. And fighting with you over curious George videos.

Such transitions figure largely in my sorta-annual summary of lessons.

Lessons I’ve Learned From My Son at Year Four:

-Urine? Meh. So 6 months ago.

-Osmosis goes both ways: you’re picking up their mannerisms as much as they’re picking up yours.

-Lights, escalators, shapes and colors all fade from interest as bicycles and dress up really take off. But trains? Trains are forever.

-Up until now your main concern has been how your own incompetence will mess up your kid. Now you truly begin to worry what the incompetence of the world at large will to do him.

-Kindergarten. Bejaysus.

-Anything you don’t want his “help” with must be done when he’s asleep. Everything else will be assisted.

-Nothing on the counters will ever be safe again.

-Picking up and snuggling now must be cleared ahead of time.

 

Until next time, I remain,

well behind the rest of the class.

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