My little baby is turning four years old this weekend. I can’t even. Wasn’t he just a rumble in my tummy a week ago? Didn’t I just bring him home from the hospital yesterday? Weren’t we snuggling in the wee early hours just this morning? (Oh wait, we were…he’s a snuggly kiddo.)
Our little guy has always been a clown. He takes that after his daddy. His teachers say he’s always making someone laugh, and when we stop to watch him, I always smile. He’s either singing current pop songs, telling absurd knock knock jokes, or dancing like Corky St. Clair.
One of my favorite things that has emerged, though, is his alter ego, Mr. Jasper.
Mr. Jasper speaks with a British accent. When he first arrived, he liked to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and tell us about living in South America working at a laundry. But over the past couple months, he’s shied away and doesn’t make as many appearances. When he does, though, he tells me about his new wife Mama Jeans, and that they moved to Oh-zmark Missouri.
I love this little guy so much it hurts. Every now and then I get glimpses of what he’ll be like as a teenager, maybe as an adult, and I’m happy. He loves his little sister and never hits her back, even though she constantly is slapping him or throwing toys at him. He is beyond sympathetic and will do anything to make someone feel better, and his favorite foods are still pizza and ice cream.
I’m a lucky mama!
Top Gun and Candy Skeleton before their school Halloween party earlier this fall.