Four.

Ransom Malachi.
"God's Messenger of Hope and Deliverance."

Today you are four, and I have no idea where these last four years have gone.
I feel like you were just a newborn.... and then I blinked and turned around...
It kind of slays me just a little bit.

Our first few days...learning you.  Falling in love with you.

You are my baby boy.  My strongest willed.  My most passionate child.
My truck loving, puppy toting, bike riding, sweet lisping little boy man.
You are stretching and growing right before my very eyes.
And I feel that I can hardly keep up your changes...

This year it was your turn to become a big brother for the very first time.
And oh, how I have loved to watch you grow into this role.
I love your sweet, tender care of your baby sister.
And I love how you are the only one who calls her by her full name:  "London Faith."

I love to watch you run crazy fast.
I love your love for the outdoors and for wide open spaces.
I love that you taught yourself to ride a bike with training wheels.
And I love how proud you were to show us.

Sha-zam!  A cupcake cake.  She ain't perfect...but she's full of candy which is all Rancey wanted.

I love your huge, squeezing hugs, and I melt over your ginormous crocodile tears.
I worry over your temper and I am amazed and your impressively strong will.
And I love how you hold your own with your two big brothers.

I love how much YOU love your big boy bed...and how you can talk to yourself for hours at night.
I love that you still love that ratty old puppy...and I love how your bed is constantly covered in cars.
I love how you are cautiously timid about some things...but you are so very brave about others.
I love your crazy mad dance skillz...and I love YOUR love for music.
I love to hear you sing....and I love your shy, embarrassed expression when you catch me watching.

You are boy - through and through.
You are passionate.  You are strong.  You are OH so independent.
You are silly.  And lately, you've been taking some pretty strong crazy pills to boot.

You are also sweet - and oh so very tender.
You are so free with your hugs and with your "kith-es."
And I love how you still ask me to come and "snuggie" with you.

Ransom, I pray that you will live up to your name.

I pray that your strength of personality will carry over into an amazing strength of character - and that the passionate way you feel about things will spill over into what really matters in life.  Keep the passion, Buddy.  Keep the strength.  And stay forever tender.  Watch your Daddy.  Watch him closely.  May you grow to be a man like him.

But, right now...thank you for being the big four year old boy that you are.  I knew I wasn't done with two.  I knew that there was still one more little boy for me to carry and for me to hold.  Thanks for being that gift to your Mama.  Thanks for that sweet little smile and those awesome, tripping leg hugs.  Thanks for stealing sharing my coffee with me most mornings.  And thanks for still crawling into bed with me when you first wake up.  I kind of love that.

I love that you wanted pancakes, eggs, and bacon for your birthday supper.  And I love that you were more excited for your cake than you were for any of your gifts.  I hope you had a happy day, my Love.  I hope you know how special you are to me.  I hope you know how crazy, wildly, madly I love you....

Happy 4th birthday, my baby boy.

*Written at 8 million o'clock at night because that's the only time I can find to write lately.  And posted a couple of days late, because I rock like that.  I apologize for any typos or sentences that make no sense. 

I love you Rancey Pants.  You are the besty best....