To My Four Year Old

Dear Zoey,

It is so hard to believe that four years have flown by since that early morning in December, 2006, when you flew in to the world.  This morning I woke up at 5:13 a.m., which is the exact minute you were born.  And I watched you sleeping next to me and thought...damn.  How did this big girl get here?

Kiddo, this year has been one hell of a challenge.  I will probably never know if I thought parenting a three-year-old was extremely challenging because three-year-olds in themselves are oh-so-challenging, or if the circumstances presented to us this year just made dealing with constant temper tantrums and assertions of will seem nearly impossible.  Not that I can blame you.  I had my own fair share of tantrums this year over having to leave our home and our old way of life, and I'm in my 30s.  Life isn't fair, and that's a hard lesson to learn when you're still trying to master writing your own name.

In spite of all the crap, you have mastered so many big-kid skills this year it is astounding.  You can write your own name now!  You can help set the table, clear your dishes, feed the cats, spit out your toothpaste, and undress yourself completely...all skills you hadn't mastered at this time last year.  You also believe you are fully capable of microwaving your own heat pack, answering the door for the pizza delivery person, and reading me bedtime stories.  You refuse to believe you need help with anything, a trait that is equal parts endearing and aggravating, depending on what kind of day we're having.

Your speech has grown and changed so much in the past several months, I can hardly keep up with you...not a day goes by when I am not amazed at the questions you ask, the vocabulary you possess, the fact that you can now pronounce nearly all your r's and l's.  Your Boston accent is fading and it makes me a little sad.  You speak more like a grown-up and less like a baby every day.  But just when I think you are so grown up, you will mix up a phrase or throw in a 'w' in place of an 'r' (where is the caw, Mommy?) and I am reminded of your babyhood all over again.  You try so hard to sound like the big people in your life, but sometimes it just doesn't come out right.  Some of my favorite phrases are 'it happens to the best of us' (used frequently, when discussing why accidents are not so traumatic, after all) and 'you know the drill' (used nearly every day, when trying to motivate you to do things like get dressed or get out of the car).  You try and use these phrases as well, but instead you say 'it happens to the most of us, Mommy' or 'you know the fire drill'.  So close.  Also, since you spend so much time with Gigi, you have picked up a habit of speaking like a little old lady, which delights me to no end.  Your favorite phrases to express excitement/disgust/astonishment are 'OH MY GOODNESS' and 'Well, good golly'.  You throw in a 'good golly Moses' for good measure if you are particularly impressed with your circumstances.  Your old-lady speak makes me smile.  And feel relieved, because Mommy has a bit of a potty mouth and your expressions could be soooo much worse.

This year your imagination has taken off almost as fast as your speech.  You play house with your dolls and Barbies and construct elaborate scenarios where, typically, someone involved is heading to the time-out chair.  You love to be in charge, and to lecture your stuffed animals.  I am not sure if this is a phase typical of all four-year-olds, or if you are going to develop an overall bossy personality.  Not that I would have a CLUE where that comes from, if you did.  Anyway.  You re-create your favorite movie, Cinderella, using all your small princess dolls, and you firmly believe that wearing your t-shirt with a horse on it actually causes you to become the horse.  Ditto with the Tinkerbell shirt.  You frequently request that we play 'Queen and Princess', during which I am the Queen (naturally) and you are the Princess, and you haven't caught on yet that all I am doing is requesting you do everything I want you to do but adding about five 'royals' to every request.  Example:  'Would the royal Princess Zoey place her royal tennis shoes by the royal door where they belong?'  And, all decked out in your Cinderella dress and plastic high heels, you respond 'Yes, Queen Mommy!'  I am wondering how long it will take before you catch on to what's really happening here. 

And can we talk about your sleep habits for a minute, here?  You still sleep with me, a habit you started when we moved in March and which doesn't bother me enough to want to change it and upset you further.  You take comfort in being close to me.  Totally okay with that.  However, if you would just sleep a little bit more, that's all I'm asking!  You need 10 hours of sleep per day, you know that (right?) and I know that.  So, if you're up past 9:00, you must sleep in until at least 7:00.  Trust me on this.  Otherwise, we will all be miserable the following day.

You wake up grumpy nearly every morning.  Disheveled and disoriented, your first question is always 'what day is it?', followed closely by 'what does that day mean?'.  What you want to know is, am I staying home or going to school?  There is always a brief meltdown at the prospect of getting up and ready for school, or your mood changes quickly to happiness at the thought of getting to stay home.  Staying home means starting the day at your own pace...sitting on the couch with your hot milk, watching a cartoon, easing in to the day.  You are much like me in that regard.

Now, the past year has not been all fun and imagination.  We have had plenty of days filled with no cooperation, dragging your feet when asked to do anything, and multiple trips to the time-out chair.  Nothing brings out your grumpy side like being cold, hungry, tired, rained on, or a combination of all these things.  The rain, in particular, really pisses you off.  When your pant legs get wet, it's all over for you.  Total devastation.

You hate to help me carry things in from the car.  You can be carrying only your blanket and teddy bear, while I am loaded down with a purse, your backpack, and four grocery bags, yet you complain loudly and passionately that you have the short end of the stick, here.  I have had thoughts of deserting you in the parking lots more times than you know.

Oh, Zoey, I could go on and on about how much you've grown this year.  You fascinate me, always, because here we have a child who's life has been essentially dumped upside down, and yet you continue to thrive and develop normally.  Nothing seems to dampen your spirit for long, a quality I admire greatly in you.  You are an incredible, smart, funny little girl and my greatest joy is watching how you grow and change every day. 

2011 will be a very busy, entertaining year for us, I can tell.  Your constant chatter and growth will keep it that way.  You've come so far from the tiny baby you were four years ago.  And yet, we have work to do, child.  I still have to sell you on the wonders of peanut butter, Michael Bolton, and sensible shoes.  Maybe by the time you are five.

I love you, Zoey.  I love every bit of your wondeful, magical self.

Love, Mommy