Dear Ethan,
Ok, I get it. You no longer want to hold my hand as we walk to the bus, or even give me a kiss before you get on the bus lest God forbid, another child sees you. But you are only 4 years old, and I am still bigger and stronger than you, so tough nuts, kid. Unless you would prefer to be attached to a leash (I'm open to it), your hand will be firmly in mine every single time we cross a street or parking lot. Every. Single. Time. Deal with it now, or make plans for your savings to be used on therapy later. Your dad (and probably everyone else we know) calls me an obsessive helicopter mom, but I really don't care what anyone thinks about my over-protectiveness. As long as I am here, I will be HERE. I will do my best to not embarrass you (ok, I'm lying--I will embarrass you as long as I have breath in me, but a lot of that happens without me even realizing it because I think I'm hilarious).
I know you are finding your voice, and letting yourself be heard VERY CLEARLY. But buddy, it's not ok to say you hate someone, especially me or anyone in your family. If you remember, I am a lot bigger than you at present, so I can and will take you out. Such ugliness will not be tolerated, even if it comes on the heels of me tackling you and smothering you with kisses. You are freakishly strong, and I know I won't get away with this for much longer. While we are on the topic, here are just a few other things you should work on:
(1) the golf club is not to be used as a weapon, nor is your sister's head to be used as a substitute tee;
(2) it's not socially acceptable to hold up a salted peanut and say "you just suck on this";
(3) burps and farts are funny, but not ok in church, and definitely not with the gusto you've been putting behind them as of late;
(4) retaliating against a perceived injustice by peeing on the wall is not permissible;
(5) do not pick your nose in public, but when you do, do not hold up the giant booger and announce "I just got my brain out!"
Next Fall, you will enter kindergarten. I will be a mess. A complete train wreck, and this is saying something because I do not cry. Well, I do about once a year, so I'm saving up for August. When your sister went, I was ok because I knew thought she was ready. With you, it's about killing me to think of sending you off to a new school with a new teacher. You've had a wonderful preschool teacher who understands your quirks, needs, and dry sense of humor (not sure where you got that) for the past two years. I am worried about kindergarten. I am fully aware no child or parent ever died from the jitters of the first day of kindergarten, but you should be aware that I will be a mess. Your dad will probably find a reason to not be in town that first day because he doesn't want to have to make the call to Jaws of Life to pry me away. I will probably be put on a list at the school as a problem parent, if I haven't already (there is some speculation such a list exists, and it's now called the "Anh List").
Until you absolutely have to, stay young. Stay innocent. Stay loving, uninhibited (although it's okay to NOT take off your undies and run through the house stark naked), and always love to laugh and make others laugh (you can do this without running around naked). I love you all the time, even if we don't like each other 100% of the time.
