To Oliver on his fourth birthday.

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Oh Oliver, how can you be four? You’re my sweet, sweet baby boy, and I love you so much. Your dad calls you Poet, because you have such a way with words, and he’s right, you really do.

The other day when you were sad, and that happens a lot it seems, you told me a kiss would make you feel better. You tell me that a lot, and a kiss really does make you feel better. A simple kiss on the mouth and you can go from crying to happy in a an instant. Anyway, this time I asked you, “A kiss will make you feel better?” and you said, “Yeah. Twue wuv’s kiss.” So I gave you true love’s kiss, because I truly love you, and you turned around and skipped back outside to play with your brothers and sister.

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Another time when you were really upset, a time you had fallen asleep on the couch but Dad had to wake you up, because it wasn’t nap time, and it wasn’t bedtime, you were crying and crying. Dad put you in your bed and told you to just lay there until you calmed down a bit and could stop crying. You said through little crying gulps, “I just can’t pull myself together!”

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We got you a new balance bike last week, and you’re so so excited about it. You were riding it to meet Seth and Ben at the bus stop the other day, and you were dawdling, like you often do. I told you to pick up the pace a bit, buddy, because we had to get to the bus stop. You whined to me, “But Mom! I’m not as young as I used to be!”

I laughed so hard. I don’t even know where you come up with this stuff half the time.

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I always tell people you would have made the perfect “last child” because you’re so easy going, so happy most of the time, and so content. You’re so good at keeping yourself busy. You spend literally hours each day at the table drawing, bleeding the markers dry. You could probably write your name if you tried, but you like to write it “however I want to write it” which always includes a lot of Os and Ls and Is but never any other letters.

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You’re my best sleeper. You always go to bed happily, and you always sleep all night long, and you always sleep later than everyone else. Sometimes an hour later! Your door will be open and everyone’s up eating breakfast and being their usual loud selves, and you’re just sleeping away. Sometimes you’re just laying in bed, awake, just enjoying your bed. I like that about you. I like sleep like you like sleep.

You’re the sweetest kid. You hug and you kiss and you spontaneously tell me how much you love me all. the. time. And I can never get enough of it. I never will, so I hope you never stop.

You’re our entertainer. You love to “shake your booty” and you’ll shake it for anyone you meet. (You taught Ivy too. She wiggles her hips and says “hake. ooty.”) At preschool the other day you started making funny faces at a baby, and then you turned around and shook your booty at her. Your teachers laughed so hard. You like to tell jokes, and to be silly, and to dance, and to play with anyone who’s around, child or adult, whether you’ve met them before or not. I really love that about you.

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I just can’t imagine my life without you Oliver. I’m so blessed to be your mother.

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Anyone who knows you is blessed, really.

Happy birthday my lovely son!

ps. I know, I know, he needs a haircut.

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