To Annie: this is how you spent the day you turned 4 years and 1 month old.
At 7:05 as usual, Paul pops out of bed to turn off the green light, and you follow, having permanently ceded that battleground. Dad helps you work through your list at a good clip although you are disappointed when Paul finishes first and heads downstairs with me to start making breakfast smoothies. We save you the very important yogurt-scooping job, which you execute with good grace, and we are at the table by 7:30.
It’s Friday, so Dad takes you to school and drops you off with Ms. Jolene, who gives you snuggles and feeds you more breakfast. You spin elaborate fantasies all day with your chief collaborators: Harper, June, Addie, Ramona, and Winnie. At lunch, you practice classifying foods into green, yellow, and red categories to signal how much and how often they should be eaten. Ms. Jolene does your hair.
You bustle off the playground hand-in-hand with Ramona, carrying a Mothers Day present for me that you are very proud of. Dad brings you home, where I’ve got dinner on the table: roasted salmon (you eat none), barley (you eat one bite, declare you like it, and have no more), and kale (you finish your portion, ask for seconds, and eat it all—what???).
We have lots of time to play, and the consensus choice is fort-building. We convert our couch once again, and you and Paul play turtle-and-mermaid games and occasionally yell at your repair crew (parents) to fix their shoddy construction work.
At 6:55, we move the party upstairs and transition to bed routines. You brush your teeth thoroughly, still glowing from yesterday’s praise at the dentist for your hygiene. You have your typical 7pm energy surge, but we keep a lid on it. Mercy Pig settles you down, and you end the night with, per your request, a BRAND NEW story you’ve never heard before from Dad. Goodnight, young lady. You’re getting pretty fun.