Dear Asher,

You are 4! Of course I am amazed by this, but also excited, for every day I see the world opening up more and more to you. You are becoming your own little master and you are a mighty force of a boy!

So much has happened since your last birthday. You’ve traveled so far. No longer do you want to be called “Baby Asher,” or “my baby.” You are a Big Boy now, except when you’re feeling small or a little challenged, and then you quietly tell me you are a Little Boy. This doesn’t happen often, however. You boldly march into almost all situations with your head held high and a battle cry on your lips. You are ready for nearly anything, nearly anytime. You are your brother’s powerful sidekick—what superhero would that be? Surely you are more competent than Robin.

In the last year you have continued to perfect your language skills. Now you talk constantly, giving us precious insight into your blossoming personality and miraculous imagination. You are a man of adventure, at least in your own private world, which you call Dreamland. There, anything is possible for you. There, you are all-powerful. Thanks to your daring-do, monsters are vanquished. Maidens are saved. Ninjas are defeated. Bad Guys quickly are made to regret their poor life choices. You tell us all about it. We in your family try to keep up, but we’ve learned that Dreamland is a fluid place, where continents shift and volcanoes erupt. Rules are very different there, and yet you have set yourself up with seven moms and seven dads. I suspect this is so that you can take on the most perilous missions and still feel you are being supervised, besides, in Dreamland you get to boss them all around. I should say, Dreamland stories can last for ten minutes or more, nonstop. I know that in Dreamland, candy dinners are often served.

Not only are your storytelling muscles being exercised daily, but also your sense of humor is blooming, too. You get jokes and often laugh uproariously. You tell jokes, too, sometimes playing on words and often making a point of saying something controversial, like “butt” or “poo poo head.” You smile and laugh easily. The world seems to hold so much enjoyment for you, and I hope this will be true for you your whole life!

You are perfecting numerous methods by which you can get your brother’s goat. And although I wish it were otherwise, your bickering is in full force now. I don’t like it when you two fight, but it seems to be an unstoppable part living with a brother. I think it means that you are starting to hold your own in this household. Lucas isn’t always the ring leader and you are not always the follower, as it might at first seem. You start disagreements and pick on him, just as he does you. I merely have to turn my head a moment to discover the two of you, clutching sticks and whacking each other for all you’re worth.

In all of your daily activities, you are showing marvelous growth. You are physically strong and growing tall. You used to be such a picky eater, preferring meat always. Your repertoire of vegetables you eat is expanding all the time, and I must admit I’m happy to see it. Now you enjoy raw carrots (while playing bunny), bread and butter pickles, apples, pears, kiwi fruits, celery, broccoli, green beans, lettuce, spinach, and potatoes. You’re not thrilled about it, but you will choke down a small portion of greens or cabbage, especially if doing so gets you an after-dinner cookie. And this is enough for now. I’m not at all worried about your eating habits. We just have to make sure to continue to offer you healthy fruits and veggies every day and you will do the rest. In any case, you are not a meek child who waits to be noticed. When you are hungry or thirsty, you’re very clear about it. You make your needs and your preferences known. We’re working on getting you to use better manners about it.

Your sleeping patterns are changing now, which is something I remember from when Lucas was your age. You had become quite accustomed to sleeping alone in your bed. Then last winter we moved your brother into your bedroom and now you have to share. Lucas gets the top bunk and you get the bottom, which is dark and cozy and soft. At first, the excitement of sharing a room was overwhelming and you both elected to sleep together, usually in Lucas’s bed once we determined you wouldn’t fall out. Gradually, though, Lucas wished for more space of his own (and discovered what a little furnace you are when you’re sleeping). Getting used to sleeping without Lucas in bed with you has been hard. Now that you are nearly 4, you have bad dreams pretty often, or have to go potty in the night, and you wake up. Lately you’ve been joining Mama and Daddy in bed at 4 a.m. or 2 a.m. This is hard on Daddy. You have a tendency to bicycle your legs to get the covers off, and in the process you kick people. (Maybe this is why Lucas doesn’t want you sleeping with him anymore.) We’re working through it. We don’t really want to tell you no right now, as you’re kind of afraid of the dark and don’t like being alone. And so, we cope.

You now like to do all kinds of things by yourself, like dressing in your outer coat and putting on your slip-on galoshes. One day recently you were so adamant that you didn’t need any help at all, and yet your jacket sleeves were both inside out. You worked on putting on that coat for 15 minutes solid—and as you struggled you got more and more angry that it wasn’t working! You knew how to put it on; it had worked for you so many times before! Why not now? Tears were flowing and I finally was able to sneak in there and help you turn the sleeves right-side out. You got the jacket on, but you were livid that I had dared to interfere! You bawled me out for an hour after that.

You’re doing great in the potty now; six months ago was a very different time. You’re completely out of diapers and only sometimes have nighttime accidents. Most of the time, you manage everything by yourself now, unless you feel like having company along.

Oh my, how you play! Your imagination is off the charts. You switch between being a dragon, a rabbit, an astronaut, and a ninja in mere seconds, if you wish. Or you let one idea take hold and carry you all through the day. I frequently play the supporting role of mama rabbit, mama dragon, mama chicken, etc. I’m used to being just outside your spotlight. Daddy gets to be the daddy fill-in-the-blank, too. We make marvelous families of fluffy duckmouseratdragonrabbitchickencows and birds. Sometimes you enjoy using play silks as your costumes; they often help you transform yourself. They aren’t necessary, though, which is wonderful. Sometimes, a throw blanket over the top of you sees you sufficiently snug inside your egg for a quick and exciting hatching. We never know what critter will emerge from the egg!

When you’re playing with Lucas, you’re usually something more martial than a sweet woodland creature. You’re dragons together, or knights, ninjas or airplane pilots. Often this ends in kung fu or magic battles in which one of you gets hurt. Even when you don’t get physically hurt, you sometimes perceive each magic spell as a great wound; it’s all so real to you it makes you cry when Lucas says something along the lines of, “Your spell just bounced of my ricochet force field and it slammed back into you and now you have no arms!” Oh catastrophe! Oh tears! Bellows of “Stop it!” and “Leave me alone!” are commonly heard around our home. The impulse to wrestle and fight and knock against each other is so powerful in you both as brothers. It drives your father and me to distraction.

You do play nicely with Lucas now, too. When both of you play cooperatively, it’s wonderful. You laugh and tell jokes to each other. You cooperate in saving the world as superheroes. You rescue Princess Mommy when she’s in distress. You care for animals in an animal hospital. You search for wild dragons in the backyard, and tame them with your magic, secret languages, and animal training skills.

Asher, you are something of a hoarder still. Since you were little you’ve always enjoyed piling up your belongings into a great heap. You don’t like anyone to touch these items, or try to put them away into their proper places. These collections are your “work,” or your “store,” or your “tools.” Any item whatsoever becomes a tool of some kind, and it’s all the better if you can find some ribbon or piece of yarn to tie multiple toys together into a Frankentoy, with unique and useful properties.

One of my very favorite things about you is that you love music and you LOVE to dance. You seem to have some natural talent, quickly learning songs that Lucas has learned at school and hummed once or twice at home. In fact, you seem to pick up on any tune really fast. When you hear a new song you like, your face lights up and you ask urgently, “Who’s that? What’s this music called?” If you really, really like it, you ask for that music after dinner, when we are cleaning the table and doing dishes. This is, traditionally, our After-Dinner Disco time. Anyone with a yen to hear anything in particular can request songs at this point, and you often pipe up with just the thing. You like music that’s upbeat, fast, and joyful. You like fight songs and rock ‘n’ roll. You like to bang your head, which puts a sparkle in your Daddy’s eye. You have some wicked-cool moves, too; you’re serious about your dancing and you try out new tricks all the time, but in a purposeful and repeating way—not just randomly. I don’t know how to explain it, except to say my heart swells every time you get your groove on.

Preschool has been a wonderful experience for you this year. You changed preschools in September, right after we came home from Burning Man. Now you attend Starbright Garden Preschool and Miss Pati is your teacher. She is warm and grounded, and I think she makes you and all the other children there feel safe and comfortable. Her home is delightful and full of magical playthings and her garden has many nooks and crannies for you and your buddies to play in. Your two dearest friends came with you to Starbright Garden, and they continue to be close to you. (One of them, Noah, is teaching you about Michael Jackson and Taylor Swift music!) You’re also making new friends left and right, and since there are thirteen children at the school, you’re learning to operate in a bigger pond, so to speak. You’re very fond of Sophie, whom you plan to marry (right after you marry me and Daddy). She’s a great kid, so we’re pretty okay with that decision.

I guess I should sum up now by saying you are growing into such a clever and precocious boy. You’re a joy, and when you’re not it’s only because you’re flexing your independence or trying to work the system—necessary stages and skills worth practicing. You are formidable, as I said before. I’m honored to know you, my little one. Your father and I love you so much! You make us proud every day. You make me want to hold you up to the sun and shout my amazement and wonder to all the sky gods and all the earth goddesses everywhere:

Look at this boy! Look at my son! He is a miracle!

Happy birthday, Asher, my love. Blessed be.

Love,
Mama

We had several glorious, sparkly days in a row last week. (I love California!) For me they culminated in this perfect walk we took last Saturday. Ian, the boys, and I visited a small section of the American River Parkway called the San Juan Rapids trail.

It’s a great, short walk (for little legs), which are compelled to follow brother wherever he may roam.

Even out on a limb, so to speak.

This photo was taken from the top of Crystal Mountain, a giant hill of rocks left over from the days of industrial gold mining. This trail is familiar to Lucas because it’s right near his Waldorf school and he hikes here with his class often—this is good because he gets to be the authority on the area. He likes that very much.

If all goes well, it won’t be too long before Asher is hiking here with his Kindergarten class, hoping to find quartz crystals of his own.

May I present my almost-4-year-old? Isn’t he mighty?

Asher got mad at me last night. It seems he was hungry and wanted a snack. I began to warm up some leftovers for me and the boys to eat for dinner, as we were going to have to leave home very soon to make it to Lucas’s piano lesson. Apparently I didn’t act soon enough because he started to melt down.

Asher asked, “Are you going to feed me a snack?”

“No. I’m feeding you dinner. It’s chicken meat,” I said confidently, knowing that he devours the stuff.

“I don’t want dinner! I want a snaaaaack!”

A moment of quiet passed. I put the food on the table and walked into the living room with a sinking feeling.

He was standing on the window seat ripping down the snowflakes we had made and hung together. He stood with a crumpled mess at his feet. He knew just exactly how to hurt me. He knew I loved them.

I will absolutely grant you that it’s silly to cry over ripped paper snowflakes, but that is exactly what I did. Sometimes parenting is really hard. Sometimes children do rotten, hurtful things. And as much as I’d like to say I am above being insulted or hurt by their capricious natures, I am not, even though I try to be. There’s no point in taking something like this personally.

But that’s an interesting dilemma in my mind. I personally infuse so very much of me into my parenting. How much more personal can a 24/7 job be? Is it possible to operate so very intimately, so personally, only when things are okay, and then just blithely duck and weave when the “snow” starts flying? Maybe. But maybe not all the time.

Objectively I know that Asher is on the cusp of being 4, or in the prophetic words of the subtitle of my favorite parenting book series, “Wild and Wonderful.” He is feisty and willful and he wants what he WANTS! He is in control of very little in his life, and he is developmentally compelled to try to control it all.

I think seeing mama’s tears flowing because of something he did was a powerful moment for him (arguably both good and bad). He sobbed and remembered some of the right things to say.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I’ll never do dat again! We should forgive ourselves.”

Yes, I suppose we should.

Lucas has been very keen to have his own old-fashioned feather quill. Yesterday was the day. He announced his desire to Daddy, and while Asher and I went to a birthday party, they set out to make this dream come true by means of a trip to the craft store.

They had to figure out how to cut the feather tips to make a good calligraphy nib; apparently this is harder to do than you might think. Any opportunity to use a knife is a worthwhile endeavor in Lucas’s mind, no matter the difficulty.

The result of their efforts, though, is this beautiful rainbow of quills (his arrangement)—all of which work. They are perfect for writing magical spells in spell books or on fancy parchment paper, don’t you know.

I confess I’m somewhat nervous about the pot of india ink in the hands of an 8-year-old who is frequently prone to daydreaming. There’s nothing for it, however. Not only do I remember my own joyful and spotty experimentation with such arts as a girl (thank you, Nana!), but also I’ve come to terms with an important truth: Parenting is a fundamentally hazardous occupation.

“Can I wear my snow gear to school today? It’s wet outside.”

“Yes.”

~~~
“Let’s walk, Mama!”

“In the rain?”

“Yeah! I have my boots. It’s fun!”

“Yes, it is. Let’s go.”

~~~

Do you ever have days when it seems like all that comes out of your mouth is no? I do. Do you ever find that all those noes, which are of course reasonable, justifiable, appropriate to the present circumstances, etc., seem to pile on top of each other until you and your children are smothered in them? I do.

I find that some days the noes are so very heavy, and they accumulate in great drifts of disappointment and anger. They’re depressing. They’re aggravating. They cause trouble.

In an avalanche of noes, tempers flare. We bash into one another emotionally. My stress levels rise. The children bicker more.

Even when every no placed on the pile is the well-meaning kind, sooner or later, the mountain looms, casting shadows and sucking the fun out of the day.

I’m trying to be mindful of this. I’m trying to turn my noes into yeses. Yesterday was a Yes Day. I just resolved to say yes as often as possible.

~~~

“When we get home, can I go play outside? I want to pick some rosemary to make my rosemary tea.”

“Yes.”

“Can I put some lemon in it?”

“Sure, honey.”

~~~

“Can we have popcorn with Parmesan cheese for snack?”

“Yes.”

~~~

“Can I light my special birthday candle that my teacher made for me?”

“Your May Pole candle? In December? Um … yes.”

~~~

“Mama! You come and play with me in the playroom?”

“Yes, OK.”

~~~

“Can we have a fire in the fireplace?”

“Yes. That sounds nice.”

~~~

“Can we eat a bit of chocolate?”

“A little, yes.”

~~~

“Mama! You come and be the tickle love monster and you chase us!”

“Yes! Here I come!”

~~~

“Mama, will you please snuggle me?”

“Oh, yes!”

We are celebrating the Feast of Saint Nicholas in small ways. I’m making a honey cake to eat after dinner tonight and yesterday, on the eve of St. Nicholas’s birthday, the children polished their boots and set them out to see if perhaps some treats might appear there. Indeed, Lucas and Asher did receive some traditional Saint Nicholas goodies this morning: oranges, chocolates, and walnuts.

This morning Daddy said, “Go look in your boots.” Asher was incredulous. “Go look in my boots?!” The poor kid teared up when he saw the orange in his red rain boots. He’s not a big fan of oranges. But when he found the chocolate he cheered right up again and gobbled some down. (Mmmm … chocolate at 7:04 a.m.!) Lucas opted to have his orange in his lunch box today.

I made this needle-felted Saint Nicholas to display for the holiday. He’s presently on our kitchen table with Sturdylegs the Donkey.

Kind old man, St. Nicholas dear,
Come to our house this year.
Here’s some straw and here’s some hay
For your little donkey gray.

Pray put something in my shoe,
I’ve been good the whole year through,
Kind old man, St. Nicholas dear,
Come to our house this year.
(from Germany, and the Winter book from Wynstones Press)

We are also reading Christine Natale’s St. Nicholas stories, which are found on this Saint Nicholas Center website along with lots and lots of Saint Nicholas resources and recipes. I admit I’m editing the stories a bit to make them suit our family. I really do like the examples of Nicholas doing good deeds as a boy; I think Natale has done a great job of relating the concept of generosity in a way that children can easily understand.

Lucas’s Saint Nicholas drawing from last year in second grade.

It is said that Saint Nicholas is the children’s saint because he rewards their goodness (and his buddy, Rupert/Krampus/Black Peter punishes bad children who don’t learn their lessons or obey their parents). Celebrating Nicholas’s giving spirit is good preparation for Christmas, which is why they call him the Advent saint. This celebration wasn’t part of Ian’s or my childhood (funny, considering our Austrian roots), so we are feeling our way into it and enjoying the parts we want.

There is a beautiful children’s picture book by Demi, The Legend of Saint Nicholas, published in 2003. Demi’s marvelous, gilded illustrations present Nicholas’s life and many miracles, and explain how he came to be the patron saint of so many groups. (There is one story I’m not at all fond of, however. I would recommend that parents read this book first, and then decide whether to present it to their children.)

Do you celebrate this day? How do you celebrate?

Yesterday evening, Lucas led Ian and me in a drawing lesson. “Want to come to Art School, Mom?” How could we say no? He proceeded to demonstrate and lead us in a drawing of a geodesic dome on Mars. He measured with his ruler and asked us to do the same. He dictated what colors we could use, but gave us some small freedoms. Ian had to leave early to cook us all dinner, but I stayed to the end, when we added Martian snails, the Milky Way, and another planet with rings at the top-right corner.

All the while, Asher provided musical entertainment with a one-stringed guitar, plucked like a double bass, and his own rock-inspired vocals. Listening to Lucas sing in Hebrew lately has really freed Asher from the confines of having to use English lyrics in his music. Now, pretty much anything goes.

It’s very artistic around here. I love it.

I’ve been telling Asher a little story about the autumn here and there, when the moment is right and we’re in the mood to imagine.

When the weather becomes cool and mornings reveal frosty lawns or low-lying gray fog,

the trees prepare for the Autumn Ball by changing into their fanciest party dresses.

They put on gowns of glowing golds, brilliant scarlet, warm russets, and rich browns. They must get very fancy, for it will be their last party for a good long while.

They put on fine jackets of velvet and place gold crowns on their heads.

They shine up their boots and rouge their cheeks.

And together they whirl and swirl, dancing through the night under the stars, dancing while they greet the morning, dancing long into the midday sunshine, dancing even when it’s time for the little children to lay down their heads in the evening.

The trees sway to the music of the good earth, turning turning, shining and spinning in their fancy clothes and until at last they tire.

Soon they must disrobe and go to sleep through the long, cold winter. They must slumber and rest after such a glorious Autumn, and will spend the dark winter dreaming of the enchanting party they attended in November, when the winds blew through their beautiful ruffles and silken leaves as they danced the month away.

They will sleep until it’s time to wake and don new green clothes in Spring.

My boys pretty much lost interest in Halloween candy immediately. They had loads of it and we kept it around for five days. They asked for one piece of candy in five days. Lucas even asked if he could give all of his candy away to the Halloween Fairy.

We let Lucas and Asher save out a few choice pieces of candy for occasional special treats. Then we put all the rest of the candy in a big bowl and left it outside. We called into the night to the Halloween Fairy and told her that we had lots of candy for her to feed to her babies (who need sugar to live, like Hummingbirds, don’t ya know). We called and called, and then went to bed feeling certain that she had heard us.

In the morning, we found she had taken all the candy we had left out, and in return she left Lucas and Asher some Legos and notebooks, and these friendly little monsters.

I’m looking into this program, The Halloween Candy Buy Back. We may have missed the opportunity, since it’s already a week after Halloween, but it sounds like a great program. Local dentists buy back (or accept) Halloween candy donations from kids, and Operation Gratitude sends it in care packages to U.S. soldiers serving overseas.

Lucas has just passed his half birthday, bringing him to the ripe old age of 8 and a half. And although I took these photos about a month ago, to me they capture something of his present age. This is my sensitive, clever boy flying through the air, determined, sure-footed, and courageous. He knows his capabilities. He can plan his footfalls, and he can adapt and switch course if he needs to.

He is self-assured and confident. He often marches into unknown territory with aplomb. His place in the universe is known and secure.

But there is still plenty of room for striving, for challenging himself, for testing and experimenting. It’s imperative. He must negotiate his way through space, through relationships, through his own needs and self-knowledge. He knows that he might get hurt, but he also knows he will heal if he does.

Sometimes he falls short or is disappointed. Sometimes he takes blows to his ego. Sometimes, despite all our efforts, he feels unloved and unwanted. He sits in judgment on himself and sometimes he doesn’t like what he sees. This too, is part of his age. He’s right where he’s supposed to be, figuring out who he is, and where and in what ways he is separate from others.

At this moment, he’s preparing to leave home. He has been planning an adventure for a few days now—one that he’s going on all by himself. He needs some freedom, he tells us. (At first his plan was to spend a whole day and night away, on his own, but that’s been modulated down to a more reasonable bike ride to his friends’ house a few blocks away. He knows to call me when he arrives there.)

Carpe diem! He is ready. He has a backpack full of provisions—lunch, a magnifying glass, and notebooks for any scientific discoveries he might make along the way. He also has his wand, just in case any bad guys or Dementors hassle him. He has his instructions and air in his tires. He knows his phone number.

Ah. That’s the bell on his bike. I hear it ringing as he rides out of the driveway, shouting good-bye. He made sure to give me a big hug and kiss, and gave some to his dad and brother, too. I saw the sparkle in his eyes. He is full of both our concern and our trust. He is feeling big, and capable, and sure.

Fare thee well, my sweet son.