He is my sweet, sweet boy. Always.

Evan is 4 today. (Good-bye 3, and good riddance. It's been.... fun.) He is everything that 4 should be... and he's hardly begun.

He's curious, impulsive, enthusiastic, determined, stubborn; he knows what he likes and doesn't like. He fights for what he wants. He's smart, surprisingly logical, and knows how to best Mummy in an argument. (I'm trying to look at that as a good thing... someday.)

He's also emotional, overwhelmed by so much that he's taking in so fast. He doesn't have the words for things, and will sometimes retreat to an earlier "place", pointing and grunting. He becomes embarrassed by his outbursts and wants time alone. He bounces back quickly.

He loves easily and quickly. His initial shyness with everyone is often quickly overpowered by his joy of life, his love of friends, his willingness to please and have fun, and most importantly: his ability to play the ham and become the impromptu entertainment. Even when it's unnecessary or inappropriate. But, he loves.

If I let him, he "helps". He is eager to do everything I do, even if he doesn't wait for instructions or my own assistance, or even to find out what it is that I'm doing. He doesn't like me to guide him. The results are usually disastrous in catastrophic proportions. We lose our tempers with each other regularly.

He has learned to apologize and encourage. He doesn't always do this eagerly or easily, but he figures it out somehow.

He does not like me to take pictures of him with my handy-dandy brand-spankin'-new camera. He also doesn't like me to take pictures of anyone else. It's becoming a dilemma as that's my new avocation.

He struggles with life and all that it throws at him every day. And he's usually the winner.

That's my boy.