For Georgia. At Four.

A while back I read about an idea on Pinterest (where else?) that described a mom who wrote an intentional letter to her son each year of his life....describing who he was that year; what he liked to do, the funny things he said, what he was interested in, and what she'd learned about herself and him that year.  When he was off to college she presented him with all these thoughts she'd tucked away in her heart for so long. These moments that she wanted him to know about.  And more than just moments--who he was in those moments. 

I'm smitten with that idea.  And so I begin for Georgia.  Unfiltered, mostly unedited, and just pure honesty. Plus, I'm feeling a little sappy tonight and a little reflective.  So.....here you go. 

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G, G-Money, Geege, Gigilicious, Gigerella, Sweet Pea, Cheeks,

This is your fifth summer!  Holy cow, that means you're four!  Whoosh.  How did that happen? It happened between living room shows, and Wizard of Oz viewings, and ballet classes, and lots of Noodles & Company dates, and fits about crooked socks, and rhyming games, and books read, and cookie dough eaten, and long lazy trips to Target laughing and picking out....anything, and pictures taken, and pipe cleaner crafts, and family movie nights, and hide and seek games, and Saturday morning donuts with daddy, and loving you.  Just loving you like a crazy person.

I read in a book one time, written by another mom, that she was like a middle school boy with a girl when it came to her kids.  She'd find any excuse to hug them, kiss their cheeks, hold their hands, smell their hair, and just be near them.  That's exactly how I feel about you.  And that feeling never goes away, or ebbs, or shrinks, or fades.......even in our most heated moments, fits, or battle of wills.

At four........

You have an incredible sense of humor.  But you can't stand it when people laugh at your jokes.  It actually makes you cry.  We're working on the laughing WITH you, not AT you thing.

You go.  You don't sit or relax.....ever. Even when you watch TV you are pacing the room.  When I know you don't feel good you laugh and live in the moment because it's the moment you've been given.  You make the most of every second and I am in awe of that.  I dare anyone to try and taper that quality in you.  Don't ever lose it.  It has the potential to make tremendous impact on your world.

You are loyal.  For a four year old you love your friends like I didn't know was possible.  You talk about them, pray for them, think about things you can make for them, wonder about things you I can buy for them, and you ask me over and over how you can be a better friend.  You feel things deep and process them until you can make sense of them.  I love that you're a thinker.

Your memory blows me away.  I've always thought of myself as having a good memory....and I'll claim that I do.  But yours?  One of the first things Tarah told me about herself was that she had a crazy scary memory.......and nature has delivered in spades when it comes to yours.  You remember what places smelled like, company logos from state to state--the most obscure ones, what you ate at someones house when you were two, what you wore on a random Tuesday a year ago, what I wore on a random Tuesday a year ago, and pretty much everything in between.  I mean, you quote movies and shows.....verbatim.  When I tell you that you have a memory like Tarah's you smile and laugh and say that it's why "I should always believe what you say." Your memory may be better than your logic.

Bugs.  If you're not on track to be an etymologist I can't imagine why not.  You cried when you saw we bought ant traps for the house.  You said, "Get the bees.  Leave the ants for me.  They love me."  You pick them up and let them crawl all over you, you laugh hysterically when you find a pile of them on the driveway, and you name them.  You wake up from bad dreams about someone hurting grasshoppers and you want to have a bug birthday party next year, although you are terrified of the movie, "A Bug's Life,"; one I thought you'd love for sure.

You're an artist.  You sit at your little black table in the kitchen for at least two hours a day. It's regularly covered in twisted up pipe cleaners (I think you're a pack-a-day pipe-cleaner consumer), scraps of construction paper, envelopes full of stickers, un-capped glue sticks, colored staples, hair bows, and watercolor paints. I think about cleaning it up ten times a day but usually only do it once; after you've gone to bed......because it reminds me that you've been there.  Creating, getting excited about something you've drawn, putting together an envelope full of paper for Fiona......and I love to watch you there.  Engrossed and focused like nothing else makes you.  Asking me if we can glitter some peas or a chair or the dishes.  No...............

And I could go on and on little G.  And there's no doubt I will--lots and lots.  But for now.......four is looking good on you!