Despite telling him not to, Mitchell grows up and turns 4.

And when I say "Mitchell, plllllleeeeease stop growing up." He looks at me seriously, puts his hands gently on my face and says, "mom.  It's ookkkaaaay.  All boys have to grow up! We have to! I will get big!"  *sigh*  I know......

Of course, now, he realizes being four means 60 second longer timeouts, and one more mandatory bite for dinner.  So when we say "4 bites, Mitchell, 4" he so poignantly decides he wants to be....two, again.   Unfortunately, we can't choose how old we are.  Otherwise, I wouldn't be turning a quarter of a century with a bunch of gray hairs.

But anyway, Mitchell wanted a *water* party with all his friends.  And because he's my kid, it rained down poured like it was winter, the entire time.  When I woke up Saturday morning with blue skies, there was hope.  But grey clouds took over, and, well, we were planning on being wet anyway!  Growing up, I wanted a party at the park every year.  That was mostly always planned, and then it would rain, and I mean really really really rain.  I remember being soaking wet in the car with my grandma for our lunch/movie date.  And we had plans to go somewhere but she (and I, really) didn't want to get out of the car so we went through the subway drive through.  I had no idea this was genetic.

It still rains every year on my birthday, regardless of where I am.

But we let everyone play in the water in the rain till it got really bad, then Mitchell took all his friends down to his toy room and played, and played.  We had little pizzas for lunch, even though Mitchell demanded cold cereal without milk.  And cupcakes, since Mitchell asked so nicely for them.

And then Monday he officially turned four.  And somehow he ended up in our bed...... but he opened Candyland and was so excited.  "Mom, can we play it now?" Yes! And we played 2 rounds, Mitchell won both times, and then had breakfast with goo goo, who would not stop trying to open his other presents.

We had a package come from Grandpa/Grandma Taylor and when the UPS man rang the doorbell with a huge package, Mitchell was just sure it was for him.  Good thing it was.  He thought it was the best thing ever and was thrilled to find some watercolors and baseball gear.  He painted for a bit, then Ali, Mitchell and I went outside to play some baseball.  In the water, since outside=swimsuits now.  Plus it was raining (again), but we ran around and threw the ball back and forth for awhile.

IT'S RAINING!!!

Then we went to the party store to get some balloons, and ice cream, and we stopped at Gardner Village for some birthday lollies, which is a thing I just decided to make up earlier that day.  But after the root bear float flavor- this is happening for everyone's birthday.

Mike came home from work, and we took Mitchell out to the shed where a nice orange bike was waiting for him.  We under-estimated his head size (5+ was too small.  I should have known he has the head size of a 9 year old) and over-estimated his height (ooorrr walmart employees don't know anything) and so Mike took Mitchell to exchange sizes and bought Mitchell his very own sprite, and Mitchell was on cloud nine, until Ali drank it all the next day.  In like 5 seconds.  Then Mike bought Mitchell a sprite again, and the cycle continues to cycle, since Ali's "there is something delicious nearby" senses are out-of-this-world keen.

But anyway, the whole bike thing hasn't been mastered yet, but he's so close.  And it's fun to watch him learn how to ride.  And grow up.  I basically had a melt down at walmart after we bought his bike, because it's a bike and he can ride it because he's growing up. I have issues with birthdays.

After dinner (the boy requested "blue" waffles, as opposed to eggo waffles, which means Belgium waffles (out of a blue box, since it's 1000x faster and easier than from scratch), we had a little family party where Mitchell got more cool toys, more baseball things (the kid lives for baseball).  We gave him some huge "sock boppers" or something to "fight" dad with (2 pairs, so dad isn't left out) and a baseball bat and a doctors kit so he can do his "checkups" more effectively.  And he does.  And then gives the best "diagnosis" ever, ranging from "bad head" to "broken tummy" to "your belly button is not working, you need a shot."

I think the highlight was all the baseball gear.  He and goo play every. single. day.  Ali loves it just as much.  They could hit the ball and try to catch it all day long.  (well, as long as the slip n slide is on, wasting water, and they're in their swimsuits)  But we've had so much fun.

And I tried to make a chocolate cake but I burned it dry, then served it anyway (no time to mess up! no one will notice! there is no way they did not notice the excessive dryness of said cake.)  And it was terrible and I'm trying to make myself friends with Sam's Club, or Harmons, so this birthday cake thing doesn't continue on as a tradition for all time.  I have no idea what my problem is.  But, Alis' birthday isn't till October, and I'll convince myself nothing will go wrong, and something will.  Just like it will probably rain this year when I turn 25.

But Mitchell had a lot of fun, and that's what counts I guess, even if he doesn't like sitting in his room for an entire 240 seconds, rather than 180.

Meanwhile, Ali decided to become a genius and knows pretty much all body parts, animals and their respective sounds, the first 5-6 letters of the alphabet song and how to count to 7.  She knows how to sing "twinkle twinkle little star" and also the hot dog song from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  Actually she knows most of the Mickey Mouse clubhouse song too.  She also recognizes the letter "x" and "o".  Mitchell takes all the credit here.  He sits and teaches her everything he knows, everyday and all day.  It is frightening how well she picks up all of it.  They play with foam letters in the bathtub (best toy ever, thanks Cheri!) and when Ali holds one up, Mitchell tells her what it is, and she repeats it.  Again, and again, and again.  Mitchell helps Ali with her prayers every night, which generally go something like this:
Mitchell: Thank Thee for Mama
Ali: Mama!
Mitchell: and Dada.
Ali: Daddy!
Mitchell: And me, Mitchell
Ali: Mitchell
Mitchell: And.....boys.
Ali: Boys!
{Mike and I shake our heads}
Mitchell: And.....your binky
Ali: Binky!
Mitchell: And....your baby
Ali: Baby!
Mitchell: And.....grandma
Ali: Grammy!
Mitchell: NOT GRAMMY!
Ali: GRAMMY! (squeeeeeee!)
{small fight about whether or not "grammy" is an acceptable nickname for Grandma Kristi}
Me: okay,  please help me go night night
Mitchell: I helping Goo Goo! {whispers} Please bless me go night night
Ali: Night night
Mitchell: Please help me get sick and then get better
{Me silently praying the opposite}
Ali: better!
And after a really long, amazingly detailed prayer, they end it.  And then demand 3 stories (and surprisingly haven't demanded four....) with Ali crawled up on Mitchell's bed under the covers and everything (OH! I finally finished his bed quilt! Only took 2 years, but I got there.  The binding only took "what about bob" and an episode and a half of "undercover boss" Oh....that's not that bad after all! Next time I'll try to do things faster.)  and anyway, they usually let me read to them, unless Mitchell wants to read, then he recites however much he can remember, which is usually the whole thing.  And like clockwork, Ali leans over and lets Mitchell hug/choke (we're working on it) her and kiss her cheek. She waves goodbye and they don't sleep nearly long enough to me.  And today I woke up at 6am with both of them.  Seriously, one or both of you should sleep till like 9.  Because, before I got married, 9am wasn't even that great of a sleep in, and now I'm feeding you breakfast at 6am, which should be outlawed, especially when you're all hungry again around 10am- which is a more normal time to eat, but not long enough for me to do the breakfast dishes usually, so "breakfast dishes" have doubled in size.  But at least they're happy, I guess.  A trait that also comes from their father.

So fun!