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I wake up to feel her tiny hand gently resting on my back, her face just inches from mine. Dressed in her usual eclectic style, complete with a quirky accessory or a touch of sparkle, she greets me with a cheerful “good morning,” plants a kiss on my head, and marches off downstairs. After rummaging through the cabinet for a snack, she curls up on the couch, cross-legged, expertly juggling two remotes to find her beloved episode of “My Little Pony,” watching it until the rest of the house is awake. This is pure magic, absolutely delightful — the epitome of being four years old.
Having raised three four-year-olds (with one more on the way), I feel quite qualified to evaluate the various stages of early childhood. While newborns will always hold the top spot in my heart, age four undeniably earns the silver. It’s a wonderful blend of toddler and kid, a little slice of parenting bliss, and I know I will miss it dearly when it’s gone.
My fondness for this age began with my first son, who was enamored with the mailman and the color red. Then came my second son, who spent an entire year performing silly dances for his favorite egg sandwiches. They both radiated personality and humor. Now, I’m experiencing this stage anew with my daughter.
At this age, she’s self-sufficient enough to handle some things on her own yet still seeks my comfort. She can express her needs and grab her own snacks. Potty trained and sleeping through the night, she still wants to hold my hand during her little adventures and snuggle up for movie time. I get to enjoy the sweet moments without the sometimes overwhelming demands of a toddler, while still feeling needed and relevant.
While my older kids often find me embarrassing and silly, she still sees me as the coolest. Dubbed her “best friend” and “favorite girl,” she prances around the house in my headbands and shoes. Whenever I try to sneak off for a quiet moment, she quickly finds me, clambering onto my lap, tilting her head, and asking, “So, what should we talk about?” Her enthusiasm to spend time with me, regardless of our plans, is infectious. On our outings, her curiosity and excitement make it nearly impossible to feel down.
With her innocence comes a remarkable confidence and self-love. She struts around in tulle and sparkles, announcing how much she loves herself at a volume that fills the room. Her unique fashion sense is fearless, untouched by the judgments of others. She looks at me with the same uncritical admiration, momentarily lifting the weight of my own insecurities. In those rare instances, she helps me see myself through her eyes — and for a brief moment, I feel invincible.
I strive to carve out moments each day to be fully present with her. Life can be chaotic, and it doesn’t always work out, but when it does, I recognize that she embodies pure magic. Despite her feisty and sometimes demanding nature, her growing personality is extraordinary. She has evolved from an unaware, mimicking toddler to a purposeful little person, brimming with original ideas while still retaining that beautiful sense of wonder that I know will fade with age.
I’m excited for all the experiences that lie ahead as she grows — elementary school, activities, and mother-daughter outings. Yet, I can’t shake the bittersweet feeling of missing the enchanting world of four. Fortunately, I have one more chance to relive it all.
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