Joel turned the corner from 4 years of age to 5 like a track star rounding another turn. He didn’t slow down a step. But as he passed us, perched to watch his race, he yelled, “Four is going to miss me!”

I think it’s more likely 4 is letting out a huge sigh of release as it collapses into a heap of exhaustion on the floor among other discarded years. Five is probably standing frozen, struck with awe over the monumental task of being dragged along by an ambitious Joel. (I expect future years, if they are paying attention, are white with fear).

Happy Birthday, Joel!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 22nd, 2008 at 7:50 pm and is filed under Reluctant Prose . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.