Happy Birthday to Cal!

We are still in your birthday month, and in the current state of the world, that seems like an accomplishment. 

Dear, sweet, adorable Cal - I wish you the happiest of birthdays in the craziest of times.  The funny thing is, you don't even realize how insane things are right now.  If anything, I am pretty sure you are convinced that the last 5 or so months have just been a pre- and post- party to celebrate you turning four years old.  You have all of us at home almost all the time, and that is truly your happy place. 

So, what are you like at the ripe old age of 4... Let me see if I can capture it in a few little snippets.  To try to capture your essence in mere words will be impossible, but I will do my best.

You think poo is HILARIOUS.  And I may be partly to  blame for that.  You said it best to your nanny when you explained "When I say poo my mom tickles me!" And yes, this true.  I do this thing - have done it with all three of you kiddos - where I get your attention, point to my eyes ("I"), cross my arms across my chest ("love") and then point all my fingers at you ("you!"), and I think that is how it started.  As I acted out my complete and total adoration for you, you narrated for me, but instead of saying "you" you said "poo!" and so clearly I had to tickle you. And so began what has become one of our longest running inside jokes.

You ADORE our new kittens.  Yes, we got two new kittens this summer, and you are quite smitten with them.  You absolutely adored Clementine, so I expected you to be at least a little pet savvy, but your love for them is slightly more aggressive than any of us predicted.  A few memorable exchanges:

You, aggressively patting the kittens.
Me: "Cal!  Don't hit the kittens"
You: "No, I was just hitting them gently."

You, picking up the kittens
The kittens meowing
Me:  "Cal, don't pick up the kittens"
You, picking up the kittens
Me; "Cal, I said don't pick up the kittens"
You, quickly semi-tossing, semi-placing the kitten on its kitten playscape
You: "I was just helping her climb onto her toy."

You are obsessed with Star Wars.  You want to talk Star Wars, play Star Wars (lego, or live action), draw Star Wars, and are often humming the Darth Vadar song to yourself.  I have heard it so many times, I have caught myself humming it when you are not around, as it has become the soundtrack of our house.

Cooper has been doing basketball lessons this summer (both online and private, outdoor, socially distanced) and you got your own outdoor hoop for your birthday.  Obviously, as you WORSHIP your big brother, you immediately told us that you, too, had basketball lessons, and put on your basketball clothes (a shirt and your striped pirate pants from the Disney Cruise), and went outside to have a very serious practice.  We were told we could only watch from inside.  And watch (and giggle) we did.  One morning you told me to come out and see your farm.  I gamely went out back and looked around, thinking how impressed I was with your dad at managing to get you guys outside during his few weeks of summer to do some planting without me even realizing it.  You seemed distracted by your basketball hoop, and kept telling me (with increasing impatience) to look at your farm.  I stood at the edge of the concrete and asked where it was while looking out into the grass.  You became increasingly frustrated, as I became increasingly confused.  I'm not sure when it clicked, but it finally did after you repeatedly told me how you had "good farm" and refused to stop "shooting" the basketball.  Yes, sweet boy, your FORM is really improving. 

You are a talented artist - just like your siblings.  You have turned one wall, our bookshelf and a window into a private art gallery.  You declare your drawings a masterpiece, and demand tape so you can properly display them.  You love to draw pictures for everyone in the family.  You and the big kids do crafts with your nanny, and I love nothing more than looking at the final products and being able to immediately tell who did which one.  Daphne's is always perfect and symmetrical, and you can tell she followed the directions precisely.  Cooper's is always done well, with a little individualistic flair.  And yours.... well, yours is always a little bit special.  There is your chicken doing the splits, where you wrote only the first 4 letters of your name on it before declaring it done.  there is the rainbow with all the clothespins anchored to one side, and the colored paper placed in a random pattern, very much not the traditional ROYGBIV.   I think this is both a product of your sweet little spirit and the fact that you have had not two, but FOUR+people constantly doting on you your whole life, literally celebrating every moment and cheering on everything you do.  You follow the beat of your own little drum, and do so with confidence and joy  in everything you do.

You don't need a pull up at night any more.  You sleep in a bed and now let yourself up and come downstairs when you wake up in the morning, no longer requiring us to come get you out of bed (but, MIRACULOUSLY, you don't get out of bed once tucked in at night until the sun comes up the next morning).  You had your first slumber party (with your siblings) on the night of your birthday, and you actually made it through the night sleeping on a mattress on the floor.  A part of me thought you wouldn't be able to sleep and I would end up snuggled up in your bed with you as a back up plan.  I was so proud of you, but also a little sad that you didn't need the backup.  You are getting so big.  You don't nap anymore - haven't really for a while - but sleep a solid 11-12 a night.  You have a good appetite, but Daphne's eating habits have rubbed off on you more than Cooper's, much to my chagrin. 

You give amazing hugs, are constantly ready to play, laugh with complete abandon, and are my only child to really seem to share my love for Sesame Street.  You still favor your mama, but not as much as you used to.  If anything you favor your siblings most of all, which truly makes me happier than you can appreciate.  Your pants (and shirt) are on backwards more often then not, and you hate getting in trouble more than anything in the world.   You will wait until the last possible second before going potty, literally squirming in discomfort while claiming you do NOT need to go potty, before shouting at us in desperation to "freeze" as you make a mad dash, for fear of missing even a minute of fun as you finally answer nature's call.  You are fairly independent, despite having a cadre of servants (family members) who wait on you hand and foot.  You are all of our baby, despite being well into big boy territory, and we could not love you more.

Happy birthday, sweet boy, may this fifth year be the best yet.