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Josh at Four

 Sometimes, my friend seems like a Kripalu counselor, and not a speech therapist living in South Orange.


"You're having trouble with the bedtime routine?" she says. "Each step should be full of sensory delight. Your son should actually eagerly look forward to all of the little tasks before sleep. Taking a bath should be a soothing journey; the bubbles should calm and reassure him."

My son throws himself out of the bath, nude, and grabs a framed picture from the wall. He tosses it off the balcony, so it splats on the wooden floor far, far below. "Attention!" he shouts. "It's HAMMER TIME!"

"Hi, Josh," says my spouse. "Did you enjoy your soothing sensory experience?"

It's fun to see my son's mind expanding, and to hear the evidence. He now knows to barter; if bedtime is approaching, he will request to "see the beach," "take a drive," "watch a storytime." If he attempts something new at the playground, he immediately says, "Good job!" And he applauds himself. He has fallen for Idina Menzel, and now any caterwauling diva he hears is "Elsa." You can play an aria from "The Magic Flute"; his eyes will get wide; he'll say, "ELSA!"

I really like reading certain Kevin Henkes stories, because I think they capture things that are occurring in my son's head. "My Garden" is about a child who wants to plant seashells in soil--and invisible carrots, "because I don't like carrots." And "Summer Song" makes note of the sounds you hear on a July day--lawn mowers, air-conditioning units, lazy pulsating sprinklers. We're waiting for "Little Houses," which is one kid's strange monologue about visiting the beach.

Very happy to consider the birthday ahead. PK 4 is around the corner.
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