Number Two Son turns four tomorrow.
I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this. I'm glad he's getting older and growing up, but I'm going to miss the uncluttered view of life he has now.
On the other hand, it's frequently a view of life that has little to do with reality. We're continually convincing him that, no, just because he's making up a new word for something, that doesn't mean that anyone else will understand what he means.
And, well, I've commented before that Hell is a seven-year-old with an infinite supply of joke books. Deeper levels of Hell supplement that with a three-year-old sidekick who's trying to tell their own versions of the jokes.
But all of this is part of learning how to be a person. And he is learning, and quickly. Give him another couple months, and he'll be reading the joke books on his own.
I suspect that I'll miss the person he is now when he's grown up.
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