Could he be any cuter?

There's no other pretext for this post: Jack could not be any cuter, in looks, in personality, in any way.

Supporting evidence:





Literally smelling the flowers:



Case closed.

Nate turned four!

Nate's big birthday bash was a few weeks ago and Stewart got some wonderful photos!



We had the event at Pump It Up and it was perfect from beginning to end. I didn't have to worry about anything but bouncing with the kids, talking with the other parents, and eating some halfway decent pizza.



Nate had a wonderful time. Yesterday when we were driving to school, out of nowhere, he said "I wish I could live at Pump It Up forever."









Then Nate's friends got to pay him homage while he sat on his throne and ate:



Alison made fart noises to get them all to smile at the same time:



And the ride home:

Update

So much is slipping past and I know I'm missing out on writing it down, but my head just isn't in the blog these days. Forgive me, everyone.

I keep waiting for the "where do babies come from" question but instead about a month ago Nate asked this: where were we before we were born? I thought for a second, then answered him honestly: I don't know. I told him that some people believed that there is a God who made us, and some people think we just grew here (kinda like a plant), but that nobody is really sure. He seemed fine with that.

Nate is also very interested in death these days. We've talked about his grandma who died, and is sleeping now, but haven't had any reason to force the issue or dwell on it. A few months ago he started talking about superheroes and how they killed somebody, and soldiers and how they killed somebody. I think there was also something about a dog that died, and I flinched when it came up, but Nate wasn't scared or freaked out at all - he was pretty pointed about how the dog was dead.

Yesterday we were driving to school and Nate started a familiar conversation about when Daddy gets old (he usually says he'll take care of him, and carry him like a baby, and tuck him in), but this time he told me that when Daddy gets old he'll die. I confirmed it, but told him that it was going to be in a really, really long time. He went on to say that when Daddy gets old he'll die and then he won't have any Daddy and that it'll be sad. I agreed with him, telling him how it would be so sad, but it would be in a really long time and he'd have a Daddy for a long time. He thought for a minute and then said: "And when I get really old, I'll die too." Yes, Natey, you'll die but it won't be for so long, until you're really really really old. Then, in the same earnest tone, he told me about something he had in his lunchbox. Like they were related, but they weren't related at all. It's just the stream of consciousness he has, the thoughts he's processing.

Whew. Heavy stuff.

Eden

Nate's fourth birthday was a few days ago, and his big party is tomorrow at Pump It Up. I'm getting so much joy out of watching his excitement build. Even more than that, though, I'm floored to realize that he has absolutely no association between this upcoming birthday party and getting presents. None.

This is the first party I haven't insisted on "no gifts." We have a small house, he has plenty of toys, and I hate writing thank-you notes: a perfect set of reasons to save our guests the trouble in the past. But I figured he'd probably realize he was getting ripped-off at the ripe old age of 4, and didn't wave off the gifts this year.

A few days ago Sophia asked him what he wanted for his birthday and Nate was totally befuddled. She asked him a few more ways, and the confusion never lifted. Getting exasperated, she said something along the lines of "You know, what do you want to GET FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?!?!" to which he responded "cake?" We ran into them again today and she said she'd just come back from buying his present and watching the dawning of the joy on his face was amazing. He honestly didn't know she would be bringing a present. Or that the other 6 families worth of kids will also be bringing presents. And Grandma and Grandpa. (Not us. The party is his present. And the Lite Brite he got on his actual birthday.)

I watch him a lot these days, the joy and the innocence and the desire to please and the little tantrums and the nakedness of his emotions. He doesn't know to cover himself up. He doesn't know to care how he looks. He runs to me "Mommy!" when I pick him up at school, and he's "rocking out" to music with me, and he's totally into being a superhero running around the room with a dishtowel cape, and he's running out of the bathroom naked in front of his friends, and I am so so so aware that this part of his life is so close to ending. I know it's coming. I know there's nothing I can do to stop it. He's Adam in the Garden of Eden right now, and he's months or weeks or days or seconds away from realizing he's naked. And then he'll cover himself up, forever.

So I watch him a lot. I'm reveling in his exuberance, his joy, his innocence. I'm storing it up for later. And when he's older and jaded and properly covered up, I'll show him the pictures and videos of the days when he was truly carefree. And then we'll revel together.