There is this strange, ambiguous line between toddlerhood and childhood. Where your children stop being babies and start being, well, children.
I think we've crossed that line.
Monkey is 4.
Which he announced by coming into our room at o'dark thirty and asking for his presents. Now.
It was a quiet day. As opposed to the loud hectic birthday celebrated earlier this summer. We celebrated simply, at home, with a few friends.
There was cake.
There were balloons.
There were presents (Automoblox are amazing!).
There was the quintessential "smile and pose with your cake" picture.
And the whole time, while we were enjoying the heavily frosted cake and the homemade ice cream, I was nearly dying on the inside.
Monkey is now 4. He is sprinting through this childhood faster than I thought possible. I keep asking myself how it's possible that we've reached this point already. The point of developing independence, the point of preschool, the point of no longer wanting to be carried and snuggled. The moment they are born, our children begin this sprint, out of our arms and into the future of their own.
He is proud of being 4. Because, according to him, he is now almost 5.
Slow down. One birthday at a time.
It was a wonderful day. A day of finger foods. A day of celebrating the transition from toddlerhood to boyhood. A day of capturing memories to hang onto as the years continue to fly past.