"I'm almost four!"

This is his "If you're going to take my picture, then I won't smile" face.
When I look at this picture, though, I don't see that face as much as I see a little boy who is not-so-little anymore! Sigh. And, though he just hit the three and-a-half mark in November, he likes to tell us that he's "almost four like his friend, Adam."
All I want to do is squeeze him tight and tell him to slow down.

As most parents of three and a half year-old boys will tell you, your pride in your son's behavior can swell at one moment and tank the next. You can be so thankful that he made the good choice and then five minutes later be discussing the poor one that surely involved using a naughty word, not listening or being too aggressive. You can feel the tears sting your eyes as he shows (what you are certain must be) more compassion than any other child his age ever has and then, in the next instant, wonder who the monster is that previously was the sweetest boy on earth. While I say this in a bit of jest, it is not really all that inaccurate these days.

Taken on a very hot, static-hair sliding day in November!
I love our boy... so much. He is smart, kind-hearted, sweet, compassionate, a fierce protector and defender of his sister, a major jokester and he still loves to cuddle. He has excellent manners, gives unsolicited hugs and kisses, will tell you how much he loves you and sign it too, completely unprompted, because that's how he feels. He is social, curious, competitive and athletic. He is as busy as can be - - his desire to ride his bike, play outside with his friends and play any sport you can think of is well-matched by his desire to play with puzzles, practice writing and use the computer to play phonics games.

All of these wonderful things and so many, many more make up the little boy that John and I brought into this world... a little boy who, along with all these things, has the power to reduce me to an exasperated, frazzled parent who, in order to keep her word and remain consistent in her parenting, has literally left the park with that same son dangling from her hip, screaming (him, not me), my hair disheveled, a snack bag flung over my shoulder, a ball under that same arm and a bike being dragged by the handlebars back to the car (because, thankfully, I had the foresight to drive instead of walk to the park) all because I had to tell him for the third time (and, really, once should have been enough) that he could not climb down the super tall ladder thingie that only daddy is tall enough to reach! Ah... good times! The lack of napping (otherwise he's up until midnight) certainly hasn't helped the ability to rationalize with him in the late afternoon, either.


In all seriousness, I am amazed at the little person our son has become. He is all those wonderful things I described (and more) to his very core. He does and says the sweetest things and, at least once an hour, slays me with something so wonderful and quintessentially "Preston" that my heart nearly explodes.

One of the things he has been doing for a while is getting up from the table to walk over to John (because he usually cooks dinner), hug him and thank him for a yummy dinner. Just the other night, I walked out of the kitchen after having done the dishes (because that's usually my role) and Preston said, "Thanks for cleaning up, Mommy." So sweet. And, a reminder of how much he listens to how John and I speak to each other. I always thank him for making dinner... he always thanks me for doing the dishes. I love that Preston's character makes him care about emulating that behavior and that I can always count on a, "Bless you," from a little voice across the house when I sneeze.

Back in October (when Gracie was in the PICU with pneumonia), we had three straight days of grey skies and rain, after which, the clouds parted in the most beautiful layers right at sunset. I viewed it from a west-facing window at the hospital, where I lingered a little longer just to take it in. I later told John about it over the phone and asked if they saw it at home. John said that they were playing outside, went in to get a sweatshirt, walked back out to the driveway and Preston exclaimed, "Daddy, look at the beautiful, pink sky." I love that he, while so focused on playing, takes in and enjoys the beauty around him.

The boy loves puddles... as he should!

On his actual "half-birthday" in November, John took him to Play-it-Again Sports to buy a big boy bat. These video clips were taken on that day... they now take everything over to the baseball diamond at the park where Preston can crank a slow-pitched ball to the grass of the outfield.





He and I had our first movie date together. He's been several times, but always with Daddy or friends. We saw, "Tangled" and it was, in his words, "totally awesome, Mommy." I agree... a fabulous little movie, but my date was even better.


He likes to ruffle up his shaggy surfer-ish hair... and, quite frankly, does a pretty good job! A few weeks ago, I took the kids for a long walk around the neighborhood. Preston rode his scooter for a loop around a couple of blocks, then we traded for his bike. Next we stopped at a school playground. When he took off his helmet, he ruffled up his sweaty hair and said in the most dramatic voice, "Oh No! Mommy, we forgot to put Wacky Wax in my hair!" He cracks me up!

Daredevil
We have, lately, been hearing tidbits of ourselves disciplining him echoing back at us. It's hard not to bust a gut when it happens. For example, the other day, Preston ran into the bathroom to "do his business." He was moving so quickly that he neglected to turn on the light and, from the toilet, called to John, "Daddy, please turn on my light." John told him, "Just a minute, buddy." To which Preston said, "Now, Daddy. One... Two... Three..." Hilarious! (The counting thing is another topic, entirely. If we say "now," then why on earth are we counting after that? It's no longer "now" if we follow it up with the extension of counting... and yet, we do.)

Ah... the constant test of parenthood to my "almost four year-old" - - to be consistent, to keep a straight face and to never, ever forget that he is always listening and watching our every move.