I’ve waited and yearned and cried and screamed for this day, and now I’m happy-sad that it’s here.
Ames Emmanuel is four years old. I guess that mean’s he left toddlerhood for the preschool years. At his last well visit, they didn’t ask if he can speak in sentences or if he sleeps through the night. Instead, they questioned me on the hard things like standing one on leg (he can hop, actually) and drawing pictures (absolutely not, but we’re working on it). He’s moving on, moving up, moving forward. It’s super fun and scary to watch. I accidentally texted his name to my husband recently, in reference to one of the big boys’ schedules. I saw Ames next to bus and nearly lost my junk. Won’t be long now, will it?
I packed the diaper bag for a day at Grandma’s house earlier this week, and Ames’ portion was empty. He doesn’t sleep in a crib or wear diapers anymore, nor does he require a special lovey or a change of clothes when he travels. He’s outgrown most things baby, although I hope he’ll continue to enjoy his afternoon rest time for years to come. Aside from that, he doesn’t need much these days… except maybe a haircut. Don’t worry, grandparents! The plan is grow it out a bit longer, and then donate his ponytail when we get enough. After that, his hairstyle will be up to him just like the other boys. He says he likes it long, so we’ll see!
Happy birthday, Ames. I love you more than I’ll ever be able to share on here, or even to your face. I hope and pray that you remember the good and forget the bad, that you always give me as much grace as you do now. Thanks for letting me love you for this long.