I love kids.
I’ve always loved kids.
I am the youngest of a large family of five children. I was, what you call, a mistake a happy accident. My parents thought they were long done having children when I decided to show up on the scene. When I was born, my mother had a houseful of teenagers, and had no idea that only five short years later she’d be a grandma.
Being an aunt at five years old, and coming from a large family, means that I’ve been surrounded by young kids my entire life.
And I love it.
I didn’t realize how much I loved it until I became a mother myself. I love babies. I love the way newborns smell, and how they look like they’re still moving through water even after they’re born. I love their little wrinkles and their sleep noises.
I love them when they’re babies, when they’re exploring and learning about the world around them. I love their first smiles and first laughs and first steps and all those other wonderful firsts.
I love toddlers, when they’re learing how to navigate stairs and ride tricycles and start talking.
I love the stage that my oldest daughter is at right now. She’s six, and she’s absolutely charming. I love how well she’s able to express herself, and the way her little six year old brain navigates the world.
But, my friends, far away, my absolute favourite age of all is age four.
Mo, my youngest daughter, is four. I have such a love for this particular age. I missed out on a lot of it when Kiddo was four, only because I also had a two year old at the time, who was much more demanding of my time and attention. Because her sister is older and more self-sufficient, I have the luxury of being able to fully appreciate Miss Mo at this glorious, glorious age.
I love four year olds because they have a pretty good handle on the world. They’re not really prone to tantrums any more (though they do still have the occasional meltdown). They can be reasoned with fairly easily, most of the time. They haven’t gone to public school yet, and even though most of them go to preschool at least part of the time, they haven’t been heavily influenced yet by “school culture”. They’re independent thinkers, full of opinions, and not afraid to share them. They’re making sense of the world around them. But they’re still young enough that they lack self-consciousness. Four year olds will still go out in public dressed in a princess gown or a ballerina outfit just because they feel like it. I love that. Their imagination is ripe, and they’re full of deep and meaningful questions.
Four is such an awesome age. I’m a little sad that I’ve only got six months left to enjoy it.
Filed under: happiness, mom stuff, the girls | Tagged: happiness, life, parenting, singlemom | 2 Comments »





Single Parent Bloggers Rock;






