The Fantastic Four

There aren't that many things cuter than your 4-year-old fast asleep in bed, with a basket of cars perched in the middle of his duvet and the recently gifted toy traffic light blinking red, orange and green on his still round cheeks.

Z has now reached that stage I used to think about wistfully when patting him back to sleep for the 3rd time in the night - the stage of falling asleep in his own room and then at some point, often after 5am (say what no way!?), padding into our room, holding on to one or four cuddly toys. I lift our duvet and he climbs in next to me, digging his heels into my stomach and then luck dictates whether we get to snooze all cute and cosy for a bit or get elbowed in the face with demands for breakfast, or my phone, which Z loves to record the most absurdly hilarious voice notes on.


I know I say it about every age (while also secretly thinking how did I manage the earlier, less independent stage...), but four year olds are pretty great.

I can now go for a shower and Z will mostly be playing without bringing the house down, the conversations are brilliant, often logical arguments work and Z will agree with the reason why he can't throw stones at the glass door. We play UNO and memory together. Games that can be played sitting down!? That is a true win as any boy mum will understand... although I admit, no game of UNO is complete without me warning Z that we will NOT play if he throws the stack of cards all over the floor.

It is with a strange mix of amusement and exasperation that I note the struggle on Z's cheeky face and his hands just itching to scatter all the cards away ... sometimes he manages to control that impulse with letting just a couple fall down and at others it's the whole deck on the floor...

Which we both eventually pick up together to play our game.

So yes, four year olds are funny and cute and great companions but the temper tantrums are real. The energy levels often through the roof (sometimes Z is literally bouncing off the sofas and zipping around the lounge, like one of those balls in pinball machines), the whining more elaborate (I asked him to tidy up his toys today and he threw himself on the sofa saying oh just let me relax, I've been tidying up all day!).

It is often with some sheepishness that we recognise our own less savoury traits and statements being emitted from a tinier and we can only hope better version of us...

Z will say the strangest and funniest things like, 'look Mama, girls can do 'love' (while making an L with his fingers) and boys can do 'rock on' (holding his hand in the classic rock on gesture). I tried to protest this strangely and seemingly unegalitarian statement but let's just say that didn't end well...

The whole boys vs. girls thing seems to have crept in much sooner than I would've thought ... I guess preschool crowd behaviour?

One of those rare times when he actually told me that he played with a girl called Maia and had a great time, I was so pleased, till he said 'she's the best girl in the world!' at which I'm mildly embarrassed to admit, my heart twinged a bit.

There is much novelty living with a 4 year old boy. For example, this morning we had to play UNO with his traffic light. Yep. One of those times when logic exhaled in exasperation, packed up and left for easier horizons. So I had to deal cards to a traffic light. And then Z and I took turns playing for the said traffic light, because, surprise, surprise, a toy (or real...) traffic light cannot actually play UNO.

Having meals with all sorts of sports equipment on the table because 'these balls want to eat with us'.

Packing his alarm clock along with a few dozen other things in his little backpack when going out.

Gathering sticks, sticks and more sticks while trying to ride his balance bike up a steep slope. Giving me his mischievous side eye grin as he stops and bends down to pick yet another stick ...

The proceeding to plant these unseemly sticks in my house plant pots.

Sometimes finding a series of strange abstract photos on my phone only to realise its Zain snapping pictures of a corner of the bed and floor and is that me bending over to pick up something? Thanks Z.

I love that he often speaks in Urdu, sometimes surprising me with a literary word that we never really use in colloquial conversation like, 'mama yeh flower weeran ho gaya hai!' from the few Urdu books we have and read a lot. With the grandparents here these days, he's speaking more and more in Urdu (while occasionally asking nano why don't you talk like us?) and I just adore listening to him say the simplest of things like 'Mama aap kahan ho?', or 'Mein news dekh rahi hoon' (still often using the feminine verbs for himself!).

We've also had lots of conversations about growing old and after playing cricket with nana and nano, who have told him they can't keep bending to get the ball and he has to do it for them, he asked me if I could bend lots of times. When I said yep, he was super chuffed. I better stick to my exercise classes... gulp. 

Z still loves sticks, stones, playing with water. He calls instructions 'constructions' and hawa 'halwa' still. He likes it when we recount stories or memories and then wants them to be repeated many times, saying, mama tell me the story of when....

This week we got news of which schools our kiddos will be attending. We had put the nearest school after a good visit and have gotten a place there. Which means from Septemer, my time with Z will be cut short during the week days. I know it will be fine and I'm sure good for us all as a family but I can't help feeling a pang of sadness. He has only ever gone to nursery three days a week and these last few months even less than that.

Every morning begins with a question 'Mama aaj kya din hai?' and whether it's a visit to the community library or a play session in a forest, it is mama and z adventure day twice a week.

We have the whole summer to look forward to before this change though so I will try to heed my most important learning since Z's birth - make the most of this time cause it is going to fly by way too fast, leaving a string of memories, bittersweet nostalgia and photographs.