Happy Birthday, Grant!

Four years ago.

You were born.

Looking at pictures, it feels like today all over again.

Your first picture.

Your first picture with Dad.

Meeting Trevor.

Today you are four.

And I can still remember what you smelled like then.

You smelled new and fresh and baby.

You smelled sweet.

Today you smell like a little boy.

Like grass and dirt and sweat.

Like hose water and pool water.

Like band aids and Neosporin.

Like chocolate cake and coconut shampoo.

And sometimes bad breath.

I could still bury my nose in your neck and smell you all day if you would let me.

Happy Birthday, Grant!

*****

I know we talked about this last night.

Last night I told you that it was your last night being three.

I told you that I love three year old Grant so much and that I would miss him.

I tried to make you promise that four year old Grant would still be just as funny and smart and nice and handsome.

You laughed and said, "No! Four year old Grant is going to be baaaaddddd!"

I went to your school and read a book to your class today. You sat on my lap and grinned from ear to ear as your friends sang "Happy Birthday" and thanked you for picking such a fun story! Even some of the tougher boys shouted out that "your Mom was awethome!"

You kissed me big. In front of all of your friends.

I don't think four year old Grant will be a problem. I think he'll be just fine.