A few weeks ago I was out having lunch with my four year old and my 10 month old. We were sitting down and eating – well I was eating, and he was doing some sort of chair acrobatics only stopping occasionally to take a small bite of his quesadilla. Then he decided it would be fun to touch the salsa bar that I stupidly sat us right next to, and I calmly tried to wrangle him so a woman could get to it.
When she was finished, she smiled at us and asked “How old is he?” At first I thought she was asking about the baby, as usually 95% of people asking me that question are referring to him.
“Him,” she said, pointing to the kid doing stunts in and around his chair.
“Oh, he’s four.”
She smiled and said, “Oh, I miss four. My son is ten now and it’s nowhere near as fun as four.”
I thought about it and chuckled and said, “Yeah, it is pretty fun.”
There’s just something really care-free about being a four year old.
When you’re four you’re old enough to pick out your clothes and dress yourself, but not quite old enough to maybe match them perfectly. But that’s okay, because your day usually consists of playing outside, coloring, and being a super hero.
When you’re four school is really just a fun day of doing art projects and playing with friends.
When you’re four you can wear pajamas all day long. Even if the top and bottom are different. Even if they don’t quite fit right. Even while out in public.
When you’re four you can jump the highest, run the fastest, and yell the loudest.
When you’re four you know where all the best hiding spots are.
When you’re four you can rock a rad mo-hawk while hugging your favorite teddy bear.
When you’re four you’re pretty much invincible.