Four no more

For the last couple of months, the kids have been on a big “pretending they’re animals” kick.  The target critters are usually puppies (rowr rowr!) or bear cubs (groggle groggle!) or kittens (meow meow, obviously).

They’re all cute and, after 12 straight hours of it, So. Freaking. Annoying.

It finally got to the point this evening where I told Seve that I just wasn’t going to respond to him — at all — unless he was speaking like a human:  “You can be happy or sad or scared or whatever … I am NOT talking to you unless you knock off that meowing. 100%.”

He made a vaguely hissy sound and walked away.

Fast forward to an hour later, when I’m trying to corral the kids up to bed.  Seve had just finished drawing a cat.  I was mildly eye-rolly about it (because CAT) but it was a really sweet drawing:


I made a big deal about it, telling him that it was really great and had to go up on the fridge right away.  At which point he burst into tears.

“Nooooo … I need to do another picture … it’s a flip picture … I have to do another one …”

I was having none of it.

“Upstairs.  NOW.  I’m going to grab some jammies and you’d better be upstairs by the time I’m done.”

By the time I was done, though, he was back at the kitchen table, putting the finishing touches on the second doodle I’d just explicitly vetoed.

The thing is … tomorrow is his fifth birthday.  Tonight, I was telling him about how five years ago my stomach was starting to hurt, and then I felt a little bit sick, and about how that was my body telling me that he was ready to be born.  And about how happy I was knowing that I was going to get to meet him soon on the outside, and how I was a little bit sad knowing that he wouldn’t be inside my tummy anymore.

And this is what my boy drew for me, on his last night of being four:




  1. Awww! [tears in eyes]

  2. Great pic!

  3. Aww! :’-)

  4. I’m glad it wasn’t a cat inside of a human.

  5. This story reminds me of the time my daughter had played so much in the bath tub there was more water on the floor than in the tub. As I was drying her and grumbling at the same time she reached out, patted my cheek and said, “We love each other, do we Mum!” Such precious memories…

If you think I’m talking about you here, yeah, you’re probably right.

If you think I’m talking about you here, yeah, you’re probably right.

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