Life of a Four-Year-Old

I’m a racecar driver winning a race! I’m a dragon, flying through the sky! I’m a… dreamer. Dreams. These were just dreams and I’m transported to my parents’ bed. My eyes are still closed and I feel cold. I grab for the blankets to cover me. I cover my whole body and head with whatever I can grab to try and go back to sleep. I don’t want to wake up.

But what was that smell? That wonderful smell. I recognize that. My stomach grumbles. Oh no, I have to pee. But I don’t want to wake up. I hear the clanging of metal and my dog’s nails tip tapping on the floor. My mom and my dad’s voices and those people on the radio that talk to much. But that smell. Oh, that smell! That sweet, sweet smell! My mom is making hotcakes!

My mom always makes the hotcakes in the house. She is the best and she knows they are my favorite. I feel my body stretch. My feet push against the sheets and my arms stretch wide. I open my eyes and it is bright. The room comes to focus. My parents are both gone and I lay awake in bed. I wish my parents were still here.

I pull myself off the bed on to the cold floor. The door is open and I wander in to the hall toward the kitchen where I can hear my mom and dad talking. I smell the hotcakes and hear my mom cooking. I smell café too! As I reach the kitchen doorway my mom sees me and smiles. “Oh! Buenos dias mi precioso!”

“I’m cold” I respond with a whimper.

“My little man is cold?” I hear my dad as he comes toward me to give me a hug. “Go sit at the table and let me get a blanket for you. Your mommy made you hotcakes!”.

I stumble over to the table as my dogs knocks in to me. “Go away Tornado!” Hmph!

“Tornado!!” My dad says loudly.

I climb in to a chair at the kitchen table. My plate is empty. “Where are my hotcakes?!” I demand. My dad tells me that mommy is making them and they will be done soon. “I want apple juice! Give me apple juice!” I say. My dad tells me to ask nicely. “PLEASE?”

“No”, my dad says. “Say the whole thing”

I sulk and wrap the blanket tighter around me. “Please can I have some apple juice?”. I say in a quiet voice. The best polite voice I can muster.

“That’s better little man. I’ll get you apple juice while mommy gets the hotcakes for you.”

“Can I have lots of apple juice?”

My dad comes back to the table with a small plastic cup and a large plastic jug of apple juice. He sits the cup in front of me and opens the jug. “I want to! I want to!” I proclaim. I love to pour my own juice. I pour water and soda and cerveza for my dad. My dad hands me the giant jug of apple juice and I try to pour the entire jug in to my cup. But I feel my dad’s hands on the jug next to mine and he stops me. We pour a full glass of juice.  

Just then my mom arrives with hotcakes. One big giant hotcake that covers the whole plate, cut in to pieces by my mom. “Queires miel?” she says. “Yes! I want syrup. Each one! Cover each one!”

She slowly pours syrups over each piece of hotcake. I’m so happy. I grab my fork and stab the first piece shoving it awkwardly in to my mouth. The sweet taste of syrup hits my tongue with a jolt. As I chew the soft hotcake the sweetness spreads to every corner of my mouth. I love hotcakes.

My dad gets up and heads off. I don’t care, I’m eating hotcakes. Dad doesn’t like hotcakes much. But mom makes them for me, and she likes them. I watch as my mom eats hers. Dad asks if I want to watch cartoon while I eat.

“Do you want to watch Paw Patrol, Blaze, or Magic School Bus?” he says.

“ummmmmm… Blaze!”

“Ok bud. But you have to keep eating your hotcake if you want to keep watching.” He always tells me that. I have to keep eating if I want to watch movies at the table. My dog Tornado sits and begs me for food. He smells. I like to tease him by acting like I’m going to give him food, but then pulling away. Sometimes he gets it before I pull it away though. That makes me mad.

My mom leaves the table and I go to the couch. Mom and dad are always in a hurry now, walking back and forth between rooms. I ask them to come sit with me, but they tell me they don’t have time.

“It’s time to get ready for school little man.” My dad always says.

“After this!” as I point to the tv.

“You can keep watching, but only if you put on your school clothes”.

My dad tells me to take of my night clothes and helps me put on my day clothes. I can mostly do it myself now but he still helps. The socks are the hardest part. I never miss a minute of Blaze the whole time I get ready.

“Are you already ready for school bud?”

“After this!” I say again louder. Insisting on not leaving before the end of the show. My dad says that’s ok and tells me that, of course we will wait until the end. He then pushes a button on the control and skips through the show. I act like I don’t notice but I do.

He thinks he is so smart.

When the show ends, we get a frozen yogurt from the freezer to eat on the way to school. I ask if I can watch Blippi on his phone on the way and he says yes.

Life doesn’t get any better than this.