You are four.
You are blonde, and greenish-eyed, and cow-licked hair, and the place between the couch-back and the cushions.
You are joy, and laughter, and silliness, and entertainment.
You are energy, and happiness, and zest, and good moods.
You are no fear, and all in, and welcoming, and outgoing.
You are skinned-knees, and jumping, and faster, and hunger.
You are costumes, and superheroes, and messes, and wrestling matches.
You are a light, and a promise, and my reason, and perhaps one of the most meaningful gifts He's ever given to me.
You are pure sunshine.
And today, you are four.
Happy, happy birthday to my caboose. Tonight as I put you to bed, I promised you that when you wake up tomorrow, you'll still be four, and you'll still be able to chew gum, and you'll still be able to snap your fingers.
And when we said our final goodnight prayers, I also promised you that I love you enough and so big... and that one day, one day, Boosey - you'll know just what the gift of your life has done for me.
Happy 4th, Brooks.
~Mommy
