Dear Noah,

Today you are exactly 4 1/2 years old.

The last few weeks have been some of the hardest we’ve had as your parents. You get frustrated and angry so quickly, yelling, throwing, hitting, and kicking.

At the same time, your creativity has grown enormously. You draw amazing pictures, especially robots, space ships, and aliens. You build elaborate bristle-block ships, play super hero games, and love to get silly.

You are starting to really read, sounding out letters and painstakingly pronouncing them as words. You get very upset when it is time to stop for bed.

You also have a sweetness with your sister, that is exactly what This Mommy and I hoped. I love you.

Love,

That Mommy

Dear Noah,

You turned 4 years and 3 months old 5 days ago. It has been a crazy month, but things are calming down now, at least for a moment.

This month, you’ve become obsessed with fast food restaurants. This is a little bit embarrassing at after-school pickup, when you have loudly asked if we can go to Burger King every single day this week. You go to a school, after all, where parents are asked not to bring cake for birthdays, but a “healthy snack.” And when I say no, you correctly whine that we never go to Burger King.

(We do occasionally go to the Other Big Fast Food Chain and you are a very big fan of the dragon toys, yes 2 of them, that you got with meals there.)

You are also solidly in the developmental phase where you are aware that you might be being judged, and maybe found wanting in some way, so you announce multiple times each day, “Don’t look at me!”

That one is tricky. Sometimes you say it in the middle of the room, or while blocking a hallway we are trying to traverse. Other times you say it after we’ve spent 5 minutes nagging you into the bathroom to brush your teeth, and another 2 trying to get you to actually brush them. We are suspicious that if we stop looking at you, you will immediately go back to playing with some toy instead of brushing your teeth.

You are right on the edge of reading. You can sound out words, but you get impatient after 1 or 2. You’ve memorized the Star Wars book we bought you, and nightly “read” it by reciting the text from memory — with about 90% accuracy,  and a little extra prompting near the end. You are so sweetly shy and proud of yourself for “reading” the whole book “all by myself with no help.”

I think you might be developing into a serious intellectual geek. (Note: I don’t say this as a bad thing!)

The reason is mainly because you get unbelievably impatient with people who tell you things you already know. For the non-geek population, this is often called “making conversation.” We know that you know it is raining, for example. The socially correct response to, “Wow, it looks really wet out this morning,” is not “I know that already!” but rather something like, “It sure does!” or “I like rain so I can splash in the puddles.”

One of my favorite authors, Neal Stephenson, explains the difference between young geeks and older geeks in his book Cryptonomicon. Young geeks, he says, consider declarative sentences acts of aggression, implying that you are telling them something they don’t already know. Older geeks know, either that you are making conversation, or that sometimes people just need to say things out loud in order to think them through.

You also love to tell jokes; so far, I’m sorry to say, none of them have actually made sense. (Why did the chicken cross the eyeball? To get to the other eyeball!) That doesn’t stop you from telling them with enthusiasm, or us from laughing.

Today, you started T-Ball. This Mommy is so proud and excited. We took pictures of the two of you getting ready to go this morning. She says you were the fastest 4 year old running the bases during the warm-up, and that you were also faster than lots of the 5 year olds. You glowed with pride when she told me that.

We love you, Noah.

love,

That Mommy

Dear Noah,

On Sunday, you were 3 years and 3 days old.

This has been a rough month, too. Two weeks ago, I had to leave unexpectedly, with baby Josie. Your Great-Grandpapa has been sick for a very long time, but he got much worse, and we knew that he would probably die within a few weeks at the longest. In fact, Josie and I got there the day before he died.

You met Great-Grandpapa when you were about the same age that Josie is; I’m glad that you both were able to meet him. But I am sorry that I had to change plans so quickly, leaving during the day while you were at school.

While I was out of town, This Mommy’s job told her that she needed to travel to Texas for 4 weeks, starting a few days after Josie and I got back from Florida. So no sooner did I get back, than This Mommy left. Both of us hate being apart from you for so long, and we think you hate it too.

This month, you have been having more and more fun with Josie than ever before. You love to hug her, tickle her, and tell her that she can’t play with your cars. Yesterday you sobbed when, after you declared that your chicken nuggets were full of yucky things, I fed part of one to Josie. (Then I ate the rest of them. The alleged yucky things were bits of cheddar cheese.)

You’ve also become simultaneously more independent, and more committed to your claim of “I can’t!” You sometimes insist on pouring your own cereal or milk, choosing your own clothing, or removing your own shoes and socks. In the next moment, or the next day, you are equally likely to insist that you can’t take off your own shirt, brush your own teeth, or put on your own shoes.

At the end of one of your most frustrating recent bedtime tantrums, I told you that you could not come out of your room, and I would not go into your room, until you put on your own pajamas. Five minutes or so later, you sobbed that you couldn’t do it, and when I opened the door, you’d managed to get both of your legs into the arms of the pjs, and you were stuck.

I didn’t laugh, but I told you I was proud of you for trying so hard, and I helped you out and back into the pjs. You’d calmed down and were ready for us to have a nice bedtime story reading.

I’m beginning to suspect that things will improve in the fall when you move up to the Big Kids School. Surrounded as you are by mostly smaller children, who are mostly less verbal than you are, you mimic their way of talking and behaving. When you are surrounded by bigger kids who can do things that you are less skilled at, I think you’ll blossom again. (Your time spent with Freddy and Andy makes me just sure of it; in just a few hours on Sunday, your fear of dogs was dramatically reduced with the help of their peer pressure.)

Well, my sweet boy, I think that’s all I have to say this month. I love you.

love,

That Mommy

Dear Noah,

Today you are 3 years and 2 months old.

This month, the rest of the family feels like we are settling into our new normal. We live in Milwaukee, all 4 of us. We have morning and evening and weekend routines. We see Grandma and Grandpa on a regular basis. Life is reaching some kind of equilibrium.

Mostly.

You seem to be in the most unpleasant phase of your young life. I can’t even tell you how often you shriek “no!” and throw your whole body into refusing whatever the next thing is: going to school, eating, bedtime, bathtime, brushing your teeth, going to the park.

Unless the thing involves a treat, the odds are only about 50/50 that you will go along willingly. And of those restistant times, at least half of them also involve you throwing something or hitting/kicking/headbutting.

You have even broken two small lamps that used to serve as your nightlight — first one, and when we replaced it, the second one. When you threw the second lamp against your door, the bulb shattered into a million tiny pieces, and so did my brain. I grabbed you from your bed, hauled your barefoot body into the living room, dumped you on the couch, explained what happened to This Mommy, and stalked off to clean your room so that you wouldn’t slice your feet into ribbons.

The pieces of glass were so small, and your rugs so sticky with small polyester fibers, that vacuuming was only medium-effective. I ended up rolling up 3 area rugs and removing them from your room. After vacuuming. Then I swept and mopped and debated taking the only things left in your room besides furniture, your books. (I didn’t.)

It is so hard for your mommies. We’ve tried everything we can think of: taking away toys, time-outs, trying to reward good behavior. Sometimes we have no choice but to make you physically do what we need you to do, like sit in the car seat and be buckled into it.

When you aren’t actively resisting something, you can be so charming and sweet. You love to help cook, wash dishes, sort recycling, make coffee, and change Josie’s diaper. You are often affectionate, hugging and kissing us and Josie, and telling us “I love you.”

This month we’ve seen 2 significant developmental milestones. First, you are fully potty trained at school! Way to go! We need to work on remembering to tell someone you have to go at home, but at least we know that you CAN do it.

The other one is in your fine motor skills. You’ve always liked to draw and make things, but there was a huge leap in the last month in your ability to draw what you want to draw. The scribbles aren’t random and wandering any more — sometimes they are dozens and dozens of fluid circles. Other times, you “write their name!” in a special designated scribble on the picture.

You have a newfound love for play dough, and would happily do almost nothing else every afternoon after school. At school, you love to work with stickers, lining up long rows of matching stickers on paper.

You may be driving us crazy, but we still love you. And we love to watch you learn and grow.

With all of my love,

That Mommy

Dear Noah,

Today you are 3 years old!

It seems so strange to think of it. Three years ago right now, This Mommy and I were hanging out in a hospital room, wondering when you would decide to come out of my belly and join us in the world. We couldn’t wait to meet you! Instead, we were stuck waiting and watching Wedding Crashers and Must Love Dogs on DVD, hoping that I would get into active labor soon! It had already been 29 hours since my water broke!

You were unsure about coming out — maybe exhibiting the earliest signs of the shyness you still show around strange adults. (Maybe you were waiting for our favorite midwife, who had just come back on duty, replacing our least favorite one who had been there during the night.) In fact, 35 hours after my water broke, the midwife and doctor went in to get you.

Back then, you were a big healthy baby, 9 lbs, 7 oz, and 21.5 inches long. You were a great eater, and a great cuddler, but you didn’t do much else.

Now you are a big healthy boy, 38 lbs, and 38 inches tall, and it seems like you never stop moving and talking. There is almost nothing you can’t do!

You love to run, jump, bounce, dance, throw, and climb. In certain moods, you also love to help your mommies, and to snuggle, read, draw, and play pretend. In the last few days, we’ve been pretend dinosaurs, gorillas, race car drivers, and you’ve been a pretend baby — both with baby Josie, and pretending that she is your big sister.

There is nothing in the family of “race car” toys that you don’t love. You spend hours lining them up, racing them around, and conducting elaborate games among the “race cars” and the “slowpokes.”

You’ve also become immensely competitive. You like to go first, be the leader, go the fastest, and most of all, to win. It doesn’t matter whether the activity is running or racing cars, or brushing your teeth, eating breakfast, or getting in the car. Sometimes the only way to spur you into an activity you would prefer not to do, like brushing your teeth, is to threaten to do it faster/better/farther.

We also love to watch you in action as a big brother. You love to kiss and hug “Miss Goo” and to hand her toys. When she cries, you always tell her sweetly, “It’s ok, baby Josie, it’s ok,” or you echo my, “I know, sweetheart, I know.” You advise us on what she wants and how to help her, and you often ask if you can play with her. (Usually yes, unless she is either eating or sleeping.)

Josie, in turn, loves to watch you and talk to you. She laughs and babbles when you pay attention to her and let her touch your face and hair.

You still have your challenging moments, getting angry and either hitting or kicking, or even head-butting. Sometimes you engage in passive resistance, curling up in a ball and insisting that you don’t want to do whatever we’re doing or go wherever we’re going.

But no matter whether you are being charming, sweet, and helpful, or stubborn, cranky, and screaming, we love you more than we could ever have imagined. You are and will always be my favorite boy in the whole wide world.

I love you.

That Mommy

Dear Noah,

Friday you turned two years and eight months old.

This month has been a trying one for you. We had to get our house ready to sell, and that means keeping it very neat and clean all the time. It also means putting a LOT of toys away in the garage or in closets where they aren’t easily available for playing.

This coincided with our discovering that when you are being naughty, one of the few ways we can get you to do what needs to be done — brush your teeth, take sharp objects out of your mouth, yelling at one of your mommies — is to take away a toy.

When we told you that your airplane was in the closet, you announced that you wanted to say that you were sorry to This Mommy. Our hearts broke. We now try to explain that the toys are only away to be clean, and that we can get them out and play, rather than just telling you that a toy has been put away.

That’s not to say that you’ve been an angel this month. You’ve actually been more angry and defiant than ever before. Part of it is probably being 2.5, and part of it is probably having to share our attention with Josie, and part of it is probably our getting ready to move.

The funniest thing you’ve done this week is refuse to wear pants that actually fit you. You insist that your 3T pants are too big and are really my pants. But your old pants land more than an inch above your ankles.

The second funniest thing is watching you and This Mommy sing 80s pop music together. You love to sing and listen to us sing, and you especially love to play instruments. Hardly a day goes by without you playing at least 3, maybe as many as you can find or invent. Your favorites seem to be the toy guitar, xylophone, and harmonicas.

The sweetest thing is to watch you with Josie. You coo at her in a soft voice, and firmly explain to your mommies what Baby Josie wants — her mermaid doll, to watch Rocket on TV, the parent who is unavailable…. You are a great Big Brother, and you are very proud of that fact.

We will continue trying to make this move as easy on you as possible, but I suspect that the next couple of letters will reflect it being hard on all of us.

Try to remember that we love you very, very, very much.

love,

That Mommy