Everyone knows about the terrible twos. Even people without kids tell tales of their nephews or the wild animal their friend is trying to pass off as a toddler. A 2-year-old has new mobility, a daring spirt, and determination. There’s frustration without vocabulary. There’s adventure without fear. There are epic tantrums and meltdowns. But there were warnings. Both of my daughters fumbled through age 2.
Seasoned parents also know about threenagers — the sass of a teenager coupled with the body of a tiny tyrant. There’s a greater vocabulary and even more mobility, but now with the spunk and attitude usually found during puberty. There’s jumping, pushing, falling, and opinions about everything. I was prepared for this stage with both of my girls, and they sauntered through this mini teenage experience, demanding high fashion, elaborate hair styles, and their own makeup kits. But we survived.
What I was not prepared for was age 4. There were no words of caution regarding this painful year. A fellow mom referred to this age as a “four-nado,” and that term feels so right. For those of you with cherubs under 4, please consider this your warning.
Age 4 is full of ups and downs, wild imagination, and outrageous fears. It is exhausting. The questions are relentless. The tantrums are epic. The sass is at an all-time high.
At first, I thought this four-nomenom (get it?) was exclusive to my firstborn. She is my sensitive and sensory kid. She struggled with the textures of different foods, the motions of swinging, and the feeling and fit of clothing. If it felt funny, she was not having it. It was challenging to help her navigate this world where everything felt uncomfortable, and the tantrums that accompanied her discomfort were jarring.
When she made it to age 5, things were wonderful! She grew and changed and developed coping skills. She still encountered struggles, but we knew from the past that she would endure and even thrive in the face of challenge. And our second child was nothing like our first. There was no way we were going through that again.
And then child number two turned 4, and our world was rocked once more. She is our character. No, really. Every day she demands to be dressed in a thematic way. One day she is an “Encanto girl.” Another day she is a “cool girl.” And some days, she is a “cute girl” first and then initiates a wardrobe change midday to become a “flowery girl.” Any attempt to redirect an outfit selection is met with a stink-eye and a loud “NO!”
She wants nothing more than to be both like and unlike her big sister. Sometimes this is easy, but the three-year difference between our two girls does not always make “the same” possible. Cue the tantrum. The one that doesn’t end until she falls asleep. The one that is louder than any concert I’ve ever attended.
And she is stubborn. More stubborn than anyone I have ever met. When her mind is made up, there is no changing it. Save your reward charts, your bribery, and your positive reinforcement. This 4-year-old isn’t budging. She knows she can stand her ground and eventually wear out one of the adults in her life to get what she wants. She didn’t practice all those tantrums in the first three years of her life for nothing.
But, still, there is more to 4. Age 4 is learning all the words to the songs on the radio and singing along at the top of her voice. It’s asking Alexa the same question repeatedly — and giggling at each response. It’s dancing along with the characters in a movie, imitating their cartoon moves to the best of her ability. It’s asking me to take a picture of her with duck lips and a peace sign. Age 4 is cuddling up next to me on the couch and telling me how much she needs a snuggle. It’s learning how to be independent — and remembering she needs to hold my hand at the same time. Age 4 is silly. It’s adorable. It’s affectionate.
Age 4 is the best.
