I'm finishing this today if it kills me. I started this the day after your birthday...2.5 weeks ago.
I'm beyond late.
The other day you pouted your lip from your car seat and said "Mommy, Daddy hit me today." You crossed your arms over your chest and "hmphed."
"He hit you?" I responded and you nodded.
"Well, why would he do that?" I asked.
"Um, weill...he told me not to pee on the tree, but there was no terlit, so I peed on a tree."
"This happened today?" I asked
"No, at soccer. Daddy says I can pee on a tree at soccer because there is no terlit. There is a terlit but it is yucky and I don't like yucky terlits."
"But you said Daddy hit you today because you peed on a tree? I'm not sure I understand."
You stared back at me in the rear view mirror.
"Mommy, what's for dinner?" you asked and the whole hitting-peeing on tree story is over.
I texted Daddy, he had no idea what I was talking about.
You make me laugh. Everyday. Your stories, your shy grin, your clompy run, your gruff voice...everything about you makes me smile.
You are such a boy. I told you the other day that Cohen's first word was going to be either poop or penis and it was going to be your fault. You giggled and fell to the floor because I said poop and penis.
You are so rough. You turn everything into a weapon. You run around pretending to be a cowboy or a Power Ranger or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, or most recently, a Jedi.
Your imagination is getting out of control. I am astounded by the games you and your sister can come up with. You know no limits.
Your hair is amazing. Any girl would kill for your hair. It's the perfect shade of blonde and full of wave. Strangers compliment you daily. Even the little old ladies who think you're a girl.
You are very sensitive. Your feelings get hurt easily. You have a giant heart, and it breaks easily. You are shy and wary of strangers.
On the way home from your birthday party you said "Mommy, is it steill my birfday?"
I told you it wasn't, it was just your party. You asked "Can we stop singing happy birthday to Freddie?" You hate it. You always have. You don't like being the center of attention.
You are so smart. I mean, you just pick things up so quick...I'm amazed at what you know and what you can do. Your teachers adore you. You are going to be that kid that everyone loves, even though you question everything and maybe get yourself in trouble. It's impossible to be mad at you. You have a reason for everything you do.
I love watching your little brain work. You are curious. You have an answer for every question and a question for every answer.
You asked me "Mommy, where is your frow up when you are not frowing up?"
"Well, buddy, you only throw up when you're sick in your belly. So if you're not sick in your belly, the food stays in your belly," I answered.
'Ewww Mommy! I don't eat frow up!" you yelled.
"Freddie, it's not throw up when you eat it, it's food. If you have a sick belly, it becomes throw up."
You gave me that "whatever you say" look and said "That is yucky."
Something happens at 4. It's like all the way through being 3, you're still this baby/toddler type person. Then 4 hits and you're a certified kid. I'm loving you as a kid. If I were a kid, I'd want you to be my friend. You are this perfect mix of sweet and rotten, sensitive and loud, sweet and funny. I am so looking forward to this year with you.
I have endless stories about you. You are my little clown, my dirty mouth, my sweet cuddle bear. So much of my happiness is wrapped up in your little hand.
I love you Freddie monster. I can't believe you're 4. I hope it's the most awesome year yet.
Love,
Mommy
