4 vs 3

Yesterday was Truett's 4th birthday. Don't worry. I'm not going to rant about birthday parties. We kept it low key. It was nice and I didn't feel guilty that it wasn't more planned out. He didn't seem to notice.
Instead I want to admit to an irrational hope. There was a tiny part of me that was hoping that Tru would wake up on his birthday and suddenly begin listening to me. The screaming would end. I wouldn't have to chase him around when he got into trouble. Instead, he would choose to be calm and to listen. He would realize that screaming didn't get him what he wanted and that running only delayed the inevitable.
I knew it wasn't logical. I knew that his birthday wasn't a magical day, that turning four wasn't going to change anything. I couldn't stop myself from hoping though.
And then Jem, my five and a half-year old, decided that he could talk back and have an attitude for most of the morning. That is when I realized that it might never end. I might be lying in bed every year on their birthdays saying, "This is the year." And in a sense, that will be true. Even though Tru didn't wake up completely transformed yesterday, he did wake up older. And at some point, he will start acting a little more like a four-year old and a little less like a three-year old. But his fourth year of life will bring its own challenges. Every year, he will begin to move further and further from the challenges of being a toddler and a preschooler and he will move closer and closer towards the challenges of adolescence. So the best that I can do is to take it one day at a time and to not put too much hope in a number. That being said, four has to be better than three, right? Right!?!