To Paul, this is how you spent the day you turned 4 years and 9 months old.
You sleep hard straight through the green light, until Annie, intent on pancakes and finished with her own list, comes back to wake you up and help you with yours. You give a big yawn and allow pants and a toothbrushing. I make the pancakes, and you and Annie drop four chocolate chips on each of them in the pan. You eat and offer pointers to Annie, around a mouthful of strawberries, as she does a Kindergarten assessment.
While she finishes up, you make your own pancakes in the toy kitchen and launch a food delivery service. You bring me corn and kale, then announce, “Well, the delivery man has to go poop,” and do so. Annie joins your small business for a spell, then it’s time to go.
We load up and I drive you to school. I think you look quite dashing in your blue and lime green shirt with matching mask, and you give me a hug and tell me you love me before the teacher takes your temperature and lets you in.
Dad picks you up and announces Home Slice pizza for dinner, which you’re very excited about. Slices of cheese all around, and into the tub, with your race cars. Then everyone hops into bed—race cars too—for a couple episodes of Nature Cat, sneakily teaching you about the sources of streams and where they flow. Your cars turn into a rocket ship. We snuggle.
Bedtime. No one is interested in a picture book, just Harry Potter immediately. Dad reads for half an hour about mandrakes in Herbology class, then says goodnight. I take first watch, listening to you talking quietly and the gentle click of legos. When it’s still going on at 8, I enter to check on you. You are in bed; Annie is on the floor; and a forest of lego structures populates the space between you. You tell me calmly you have decided to use every lego in the drawer to build things for Daddy, and indeed you seem about 95% of the way there. I tell you you have two minutes to finish, and then where should you be? “In bed.” I come back two minutes later, and that’s where you both are.