Now that I am two months into Four, I am learning all sorts of things about this fascinating creature.

Whereas Two and Three can be easily distracted from any complaint or demand, Four lets go of nothing. Four forgets nothing. Four wants to sit with me at the end of the day and review my parental failures. “You shouldn’t have given me a banana with my lunch last week,” Four wants me to know. “And you promised not to take off Band-Aid even when it was hanging off but then you pretended your hand slipped and it just came off by itself. That was not true.” Then he gives me a thumbs down.

Four is onto me. And you. Don’t you give him that look.

Four is also terrified of everything. Oh, he’ll act like a tough guy, insisting that some cartoon meant for the 6-and-up set doesn’t scare him. Do not believe him, readers, because before you know it Four will be unable to stay in a room by himself, and will have to walk everywhere in front of you, pressing his back against your thighs, because otherwise the zombies he saw for 2.5 seconds on the Nicktoons Network might get him.

Or maybe this is Four and Two Months talking; maybe by the third month he’ll be pleased with me again, and fearless enough to, say, sit in a room without being curled up in a fetal position on my lap as he berates me for my shortcomings.

(Also: there's a new post at Wonderland today.)