Big Boy – My Baby is Four!

-from my 11/6/14 article for Lake County Today.

My baby boy turns four this week.
FOUR.
I’m not quite ready for it. Four doesn’t seem very much like a baby, does it? And I’m not ready to not have a “baby.”
He’s my youngest child, and though I don’t think he’s a big boy, he insists that he is.
When he’s sleepy, he still sucks on his two fingers and rolls his “fuzzy” (a little piece of fuzz he pulled off from his blue blanket) back and forth between his fingers, looking like the baby he is – to me, anyway. When he’s asleep (usually on the couch), his long eyelashes seem to almost touch his little cherub-cheeks. He throws his arms up over his head or curls up in a ball on his side, one arm around Dino or Mousie. His blankets are always tangled and one little foot is always sticking out.
He’s an early riser. Nearly every morning, he pads into my bedroom on bare feet and stage whispers, “Hey Mom! Can I snuggle wif you?” Then he climbs in and sticks his cold feet on my legs and scooches down next to me. He pats my cheek and plays with my hair, I rub his little head and say, “You’re my favorite little boy in the whole world.” “Uh-uh,” he says, pulling his fingers from his mouth with a soft pop. “Uh-uh, I am not a widdle boy. I am a BIG boy.”
Well. He’s still my little boy – for now, anyway. Here is a compilation of some of his wonderful-ness as he begins his 4th year.
If you ask him something that he thinks is obvious, he responds with “Why wouldya say so?” e.g.,“Jed, would you like a popsicle?” “Uh, YEAH! Why wouldya say so?”

He likes to play with his “golfing cwubs.” He says, “Hey, do you wanna watch me pway golfing?” He loves going to play Putt-Putt and he’s a great encourager: “Dat was so close, Dad! You almost got it, Dad!”

He likes playing basketball. He shoots and tries to get it in what he calls his “basketball hook.” “Hey, Dad! Hey, watch dis! I got it in da basketball hook! Dat was a good hook! Good score! Boo ya!” Sometimes he plays basketball with his sister Adelaide. She throws it as hard as her little 6-year-old arms can and it bounces off the rim and hits her in the face. Jed says, “Owie! Gimme a dang it five!”

He likes throwing footballs, playing catch with his “baseball mitten,” running full speed wherever he goes, and constantly hitting things with sticks. He likes dirt, worms, dinosaurs, and cows. He loves playing with his three older sisters, which he refers to collectively as The Sisters, e.g., “Whure are Da Sisters?”

He likes to work on stuff. One day he was in his room for the longest time, just working away at the little tool bench his grandma got him for Christmas. As he walked into the kitchen, I said, “Whatcha been doing?” With his little thumb, he motioned behind him toward his room, then hitched up his pants and sauntered over to get a drink. He said, in a low, “manly” voice: “Oh, I was in dere doing some work. Working on stuff. You know, just finishing up some stuff.”

He doesn’t understand time yet. He thinks that anything in the future is going to happen on Tuesday. “Can we go on Tuesday? How about on Tuesday? Are we going to the park? Maybe you can tink about it? You know, on Tuesday?”

Anything in the past, however, is on Monday. Jed told his papaw: “It was on Monday dat I caught a fish. And we went to da zoo on Monday. And also to da beach on Monday.” Then Jed asked Papaw, “When can I swim in da pool at your house? Maybe on Tuesday?”

In his own words: “I wike twactors. I wike pickup twucks and I want a pink one when I gwow up. I wuv worgurt. And going at da Flo-Yo. My favowite is vee-nella.”

He informed his grammie that he is less than impressed with my cooking skills. She asked him, “What does your mom cook that you like to eat?” He said, “Nuffin’! It is dee-scusting. But my dad cooks and dat is dee-wicious.”

He points at things with his middle finger (much to my dismay) and he answers the phone “Who it is?” When he has a bad day he groans and says: “Uuuuuurh! I don’t like ANYBODY!”

After I tucked him into bed tonight while I was typing this up, I heard his little voice outside my bedroom door:

“Mom? I wuv you.
“And Mom? I will be your little boy for a long, long time.”

Me: “Are you sure?”

“Uh, YEAH, Mom! Why wouldya say so?”

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