A Superhero Turns Four

I often joke that Celia is the youngest 16 year old I have ever met. She certainly acts well above her actual age: she's independent, she likes being contrary, and she has a personality big enough to match that of any teenager.

Of course this is a minor exaggeration. She is only four, having just celebrated her birthday. She has years to go before she is officially a teen. But perhaps my joke belies a certain apprehension about what life will be like when she is actually celebrating her 14th, 15th, and 16th birthdays. I don't expect it to be easy. (Though I'm holding out hope that she'll surprise me.)

Celia and Juniper celebrated their fourth birthday party in full dress--superhero dress, that is--and in full company this weekend. Here was Batman. There was Supergirl. Even Spiderman showed up, as did some Wonder Woman lookalikes. They all flew around the West Newton YMCA, playing games and making wrist cuffs for extra superhero power. They even took turns leaping over tall buildings:

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Celia!

Lucia's flying form was unorthodox, but she landed safely.

It was a fitting party for someone who already thinks she rules the world (or, at minimum, the house). And it was a massive labor of love by Natalia and Madhabi to make it happen. It's probably not an understatement to say that they spent about 40+ hours prepping for a 2-hour party. Meanwhile, I was charged with one task--take pictures--which required about 3 minutes of prep. I think everyone was happy with this division of responsibilities.

Games eventually gave way to birthday cake, the superhero of desserts. And as the two wonder girls blew out the candles, Andres looked on, holding back a massive desire to help them with the task. His restraint was indeed superhuman. There was applause, cake was consumed, and after a heroic cleanup effort, we all went home.

Cake!

So Celia is now four. Four! She seems so much older.

I love those small moments when we are talking about something that happened in the recent past, and she says something like, "Daddy renember when I was a little girl and [insert memory here]?" the clear implication being that she is no longer that same little girl. She sees herself as a big kid now--much closer to her brother than to her baby sister.

I stifle a laugh whenever she says something like this. It is so cute, so endearing that she is so dismissive of her "younger" self, when she is only just four now. I need to videotape some of these conversations so I can play them back when she is 10, 16, or even 20. How funny would it be to revisit these chats then.

But I also feel a twinge of sadness when she says this, because it reminds me that she, like her brother (and, in truth, most of her peers), is in a hurry to grow up. I am in no such rush for this to happen. I cherish these simple days, where our disagreements are limited to whether she can have candy for breakfast or whether I should read her one book or two before bed. What a beautiful luxury this is.

So as Celia was blowing out the candles, I was making a wish too: may four be a happy, healthy year, and may it not pass too quickly. I know that she has to grow up sometime...but maybe we can leave that until next year.