To be four

Reportedly, my mom once found the three-year-old me crying for no discernible reason. On inquiry, she learned I was crying "because I wanted to be four."

You have to admit, four is pretty great - I might still even say worth weeping with desire for. The so-called terrible twos and even worse threes (nobody warned me about that) are behind you. You can talk well and play with friends and enjoy preschool. While you may still need to learn to tie your shoes and cut your own pork chops, you feel a lot more like a big kid. Yet no one expects you to do homework, scrub the sink or cook dinner. Life is good at four.

Happy birthday to the world's newest four year old. It's gonna be a great year.