Jojo: Four on the 4th

Jojo, I can hardly contain myself.  You are four.  I think I've written before, perhaps when Marian reached this milestone, about how much I love four year olds.  It goes back to my time as a nanny for a precocious little four year old who asked questions about the craziest, and sometimes most touching, topics.  I already know, I'm going to love you at four because it's hard to imagine getting any better than three.  And there may not be many mothers of three-year olds who can say that sort of thing.

Oh, how could a little boy have been made any sweeter?  Or funnier?  Or more easy-going?  I call you our little Buddha. All the things I said about you last year hold true this year as well.  You are patient and kind and you have a sense of humor that's noticed by others ("Jojo is hilaaaarious" is one of our favorite catch-phrases. You don't seem to like it now but I'm not sure you know what hilarious means, and if you did, you'd probably like it just fine).

Your relationship with Marian has matured this year and it's been a great transition, even if it's required more intervention (sometimes the loud kind) from me.  You are no longer a tag-a-long brother, you've learned to assert yourself in the games you play and the videos you watch ("we have to agree!  We have agree about that!").

Your soul mate is still Mariam and the effect that you have on each other is noticeable to people outside of your families.  One of the craziest stories from this year: you and Mariam both went to drama class but at different times of the day.  The teacher (who happens to be Tanory, Mariam's mother and  very reliable witness to the event) had a "magic box" that was decorated wildly on the outside but contained only air inside.  Each child was supposed to imagine something inside; most kids talked about dinosaurs, fairies and other magical creature.  When the box came around to Mariam she simply said, "socks."  An hour later, your class arrives at drama and the box makes its rounds.  When the box comes to you you look straight at Tanory and proclaim that it contains socks.  I tell you, you and Mariam communicate on some random and cellular level.  It's wacky.

You are also a chatterbox. Whenever we get in the car to go anywhere, the questions and observations start flying.  I think most people would consider you a quiet person, but your Poppa and I know better.  You simply find so many things fascinating and seem aware that there's still so much to know. Your vocabulary is impressive and even though you still can't say "l" (it was mean of us to name Linden/Winden) a perfect stranger stopped me in the grocery store to comment on your use of language.  I should have told her you just practice a lot.

I cannot imagine a kid that I would like to squeeze and hug more.  You simply light a fire in my chest every time you reach out to hold my hand or give me a good night kiss.  If I could bottle you up and sell your "essence" I know I would be a millionaire.