Dear Jacob: September 2008

Dear Jacob,

Just now I was downstairs doing my usual late-night picking up and I found your Bob bag filled to bursting. I opened it, and inside I found the stash of kitchen towels. I was just remarking a couple days ago that I seemed to be running very low on dish towels. I should have known it was you. I can't be mad though because these are the things I'll miss when you're older. You make me laugh, you make life interesting, and you always keep me on my toes.

Quirky. That is the word for you. Everything you do is full of quirkiness. Tonight you informed me that the bookshelf I just moved into your room will have to go because that's the spot the pigs are going to have their pen. Earlier you swore there were chicks in your room and they were pooping on everything. Sometimes you'll be in the middle of an activity only to drop what you're doing, put on some shoes and head out back to feed the animals. One day the horse got out and was wandering in Stella's field. On any given day we can expect a shipment of some kind of farm animal, lumber to build something for them to live in, or even just more feed.

When it's not farm fantasy, it's of course Spud, or one of the Bob gang. But lately (well since your trip to Yankee Stadium) it's been Jeter. Jeter, just like that. As if you're best buds with him. Marisa was over the other day when you asked me to get two baseball gloves and a ball. I brought them out to you and when Marisa went for a glove you snatched it away. "No! That's for Jeter. We're going to play some catch." Then you proceeded to throw the ball across the yard and play fetch with yourself for the next 15 minutes. Later on you ran up to the fence and yelled through it "Hey Derek! Yo, Jeter, over here!" and had a conversation with him.

And when you're not hallucinating, you're causing trouble all of your own accord. Last week you did it to me again with the water. I was brushing my teeth and went to rinse. No water. At first I panicked and thought that the well had run dry, then I realized who I was dealing with. I stomped downstairs and demanded you turn the water back on. As you got under the sink to deal with the pipes I bent low behind you to see just how you were doing it. I tried not to let on that I was making you fix it because I didn't know how, but rather that it was your punishment for turning off the water to the faucet. Actually, that day you had turned off every faucet in the house. What other four year old has the foresight to go around shutting off all the faucets in the house just to play a joke on his mother?

You're still quite the little homemaker. As I type this there is a tall pile of hand towels folded perfectly and set atop the railing so they can make their way downstairs. That was all you...I didn't even ask you to do that. This past month you've been working on learning to make the coffee. Right now you do most of the parts and I'm just there to supervise. I expect pretty soon I'll be able to take my coffee in bed because you'll be bringing it to me!

In addition to the extra responsibility you're bestowing upon yourself, you are taking liberties Daddy and I are not so pleased with. You like to give out little orders or ultimatums. "If I have to take a shower, I won't get in. If I take a bath, I will." And most of the time they don't really even make sense so it is very funny when you try to threaten us like this. Sometimes they're just sorry attempts to get your way. "If you don't let me do ____, I'll cry/be mad at you/take away a privilege (of mine)."; "OK, send me to my room," I reply.

You're also doing cute little things like walking around the house in patterns. You can walk on certain parts of the floor and not others. You can step on some colors in the carpet, but not others. Sometimes I'll catch you hiding under the table with a little treat that you have snuck. Sometimes you'll be under there with something that is perfectly fine with me, you just feel like hiding and pretending you're doing something you're not supposed to do.

And then there's the talking. Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. All. Day. Long. You talk about Spud, Jeter, the farm animals, Farmer Pickles and what he needs you to fix up on the farm. You talk about what time the materials are being delivered, what so-and-so did at the park, what so-and-so said at Playschool. Speaking of Playschool, you love it. You are a leader there, not shy and a loner like in other situations. It's cool to see that side of you, to know you have a part of yourself that can get along in a group and still be your own person. But the talking...it never ends. I have to tune out half of what you say these days. But something tells me you don't much care whether I'm listening or not. It's just being together that still makes us happy.

Today is my birthday - I'd better get to bed so I can be rested enough to enjoy it! But maybe in the morning you'll bring me some coffee in bed and tell me some more about the race horses and the funny thing they did the other day. I can't think of a better way to spend my birthday.