My Dear Atticus

You are four years old today!

I started writing a retrospective of your life since birth, but, well, it didn't seem authentic and didn't represent what I really wanted to say.

What I want to say is that I absolutely adore you. I am so in love with you, my sweet, funny son. I could (and maybe should) fill pages describing all that I love about you, but I thought I'd keep this post simple. You are four years old, so I'm limiting it to four things that delight me about you right now:

1. I love how you pronounce "Machu Picchu."
2. I love to watch other adults--your doctor, your preschool teacher, your primary teachers--respond to your nonstop narrative. They delight in you, and my heart swells as you rattle off your adventures and the plots of the latest Iron Man episode, which somehow includes you. So far we love how verbal you are, and we love as you learn to restrain yourself and raise your hand and wait your turn.
3. I love it when you say "Mama, can I snuggle you?" and "Let's hold hands!" I love snuggling you and holding hands with you. One day you won't let me do these things, at least not in public, so I'm treasuring every moment I can.
4. I love how you can play by yourself, and not just for my own selfish reasons. I love to see your imagination flourish and listen to your narration. I also love to see you play with other kids: jumping on the bed with Shannon, digging with Boden and Henry, telling jokes in the back seat with Caleb. You are a happy boy, and that makes me happy.

Ok, maybe that officially counts as more than four things. I can think of a hundred more (as I write this I just heard you go "thump" upstairs, Daddy say "uh oh!" and your quick response of "I'm ok!" Why do I love that so much?).

Happy birthday, my sweet boy. May you have many, many more.