Four!

Dear Micah,
Four years ago on this night, we were collapsed in a hotel room in a strange city half way around the world, exhausted from a day of heat and traffic and high emotion. We had just met our surrogate at the hospital for her last ultrasound appoint and seen your beautiful face; we also saw her admitted to the hospital. The way I figure it, she saw us there, said "my job is done," and "let's get this baby to his mommy and daddy."  We sat in the hotel room that night, double-checking online baby name websites to make sure we had the perfect name for you, a bit stunned that we'd be holding you so soon after our arrival. Daddy thought he'd be able to travel for a week or two!

You arrived so helpless -- eyelids and nose a bit bruised, wrapped tightly up in a cloth like a pea in a pod. When the nurses handed you over, we didn't even know if you were a boy or a girl until we found someone who could translate for us.

And now look at you! Since I last wrote over 6 months ago, you've developed into such a competent little boy, mastering new skills every day. You are still very cautious when it comes to trying new things (for which I'm eternally grateful that you didn't take after your daredevil daddy).  You're insanely curious, particularly when it comes to learning new words, and understanding why things happen. You're easy-going when we travel, adapting to new time zones and sleeping situations with ease. Since last I wrote, we've gone to the beach in Mexico, where you happily dug sand and hung out in a hammock for hours; to Southern California to visit your Grandpa and Nana; to Boston to seem Mommy and Daddy's old haunts, and camping in Colorado.  You're so comfortable in new situations and with new people, which are traits that I think will help you immensely in life.

You've developed quite a sense of humor too.  You love to play "Where's Micah," hiding in a closet or behind drapes and prodding us to look for you ("Mommy, say 'where's Micah' and then look for me but not in the closet!") And your favorite trick when we go to school in the morning is to hide your head under my shirt so that your classmates can't see you, and I turn around and keep looking for you, but of course you're always behind me.

The last 6 months have seen an artistic explosion too.  For quite a long time, the art you brought home from school was all what you described as "a waterfall" -- basically just a scribble.  And then all of a sudden, you started coloring the entire page in with different colors, and then that turned into interesting creatures that you could tell a whole story about.  We absolutely love to see this creativity and encourage you to draw and color a lot. On the flip side, you've also turned into a TV junkie. Dora and Diego are starting to fade from your interest, but your demand for TV time is much higher than I'd like. 

Luckily you also love books and stories. Your favorite request is "Tell me a story about when you were a little boy (or girl) that I never heard before."  You also know that Daddy is good at telling stories, but mommy is better at reading them.  I can't wait until you figure out that all of Daddy's stories from his "childhood" of dragons in his swimming pool and travelling to China are all made up! You remember the plots and quotes from so many of your books, and when I randomly quote a line from a book you always know what I'm referring to -- the English major in me loves that we share this trait.

Invariably when you meet someone new they'll comment on your beautiful eyes, which I take as a comment not just on their interesting color, but also your great eye contact. We are always amazed at how much you look like you belong to Mommy's side of the family, despite not sharing a genetic connection.  Your older cousins dote on you too, and I'm so happy you'll grow up so close to them. We've been nurturing that by inviting them to join us on camping trips, and you've just started to have sleepovers with them (which let each of our families have low-cost date nights, conveniently!)

You still are showing some annoying toddler habits. Our least favorite is when, after a perfectly lovely day that involves treats like going to a fair or someplace else fun, you don't get your way on something and furiously exclaim, "This is a BAD day." Or when I don't let you do something and you tell me "You're not my best mommy."  I tried to curb this habit by including a moment before dinner when we all say what we're grateful for, and it helped a bit.  I laugh when I hear us giving the "there are children in the world who go to bed hungry, so be grateful you have food and eat your dinner" speech. But it is true that you're so blessed with so much to be grateful for, and it will be hard for you to appreciate that. 

Speaking of dinner, you're still a great eater, although it is always a challenge getting you to stay still long enough to eat. You'd much rather be running around and nibbling on the fly, but it is important to us that we all eat together as a family, and eat all the same thing. It is harder for us to get you to eat chicken and other meat than to eat vegetables, which makes me wonder if we'll have a little vegetarian on our hands one day (luckily, Daddy teaches a vegetarian cooking class!)

I am loving watching you grow up, and despair that I'm not capturing all the great things that you do and say everyday. For the last few weeks, when you've behaved badly we've been reminding you that you're four now and should know better, to which you have so far replied "I'm not four, I'm three."  But in just another day, you won't have that excuse.  I look forward to seeing all the ways you're going to grow and change from four to five!