We didn't do much, having had a busy week, but Edwin didn't seem very put out. After having a request for popsicles, chicken lentil soup (something I've never made), and "the other" lentil soup for dinner, I decided that he would really like pesto pasta for his birthday dinner. I asked him about cakes and he requested cookie pie, something else I've also never made. When Brandon pointed out that we had quinces in the refrigerator cooked and ready to use, Edwin got quince tart for a cake. If it hadn't been for the quinces, he would have had angel food cake to put a dent in the several dozen egg whites sitting in the freezer.
So much for your birthday being about having it your way.
He did, however, get to drink as much juice as he wanted at dinner, and he drank a lot of juice.
Buying presents for a four year-old old boy is very, very easy because trucks and cars come in so many different forms. Brandon and I gave him a fire truck, my parents gave him a duplo truck, and Brandon's parents gave him Lightning McQueen and Mater. Edwin was having so much fun with his new vehicles that he didn't bother having any of his quince tart.
I can hardly believe that I've been a parent long enough that my third child is four, but there's no denying the numbers. Edwin, of course, adds his own flavor to our family, talking incessantly about trucks, cars, monsters, bad guys, leprechauns, planes, trains, and all things distinctly male. He gives his sisters grief constantly, but also can be very sweet about sharing and helping - when he's in the mood. The other day at the store as I pushed him through the aisles in the biggest, most awkward and hard to steer car cart possible, he spent his whole ride loudly growling at every single person he passed. They would look at him, confused, and look at me as if I could explain it. I just shrugged my shoulders every time. I didn't make him, I wanted to tell them. He just came like that. And I wouldn't have it any other way.