a post devoted exclusively to Levi, the middle child I never write about

The excitement of being four continues apace. Levi woke me up this morning with this urgent question, whispered right into my face: "Mommy, am I still four?"

"Yup," I muttered. You're still four, the sun is still not up, I'm still really tired.

"Yay!" he said, much relieved.

And then of course he had to tell everyone at school that he had turned four--friends, teachers, parents dropping off their kids. Each time, he held up his hand with his thumb tucked neatly against his palm, like whoever it was he was talking to might need a visual aid in order to comprehend the news.

Being four has also been the explanation for many events in the last 24 hours, except that Levi confuses "why" with "because." When we were getting ready for school, for example, he told me, "I got my shoes on by myself. That's why I'm four," hand held in front of him, four fingers upright, even for me. When I remarked on the beauty of a particularly intricate drawing he had done today, he said, "I worked hard on it. That's why I'm four."

At 39, I can only vaguely remember the thrill of having a birthday. So mostly I've just been marveling at Levi's enthusiasm, and thinking to myself, "I love that kid. That's why he's so adorable."