I liked being 4. It was the age I woke up to the world and became an adult. 4 years and 3 days I think. The 1st day to kindergarten. I remember asking my parents something in the car. Possibly why I had to go to school.
It wasn’t the happiest year of my life. I was terrified of the teacher, peed in a puddle while lining up coz I was too scared to ask for permission to go to the toilet, didn’t get to ride the school tricycles even though I wanted to, didn’t quite know how to make friends… but there were the songs we sang in kindi hall, the ones that said God loved children and Jesus loved ME. The relationship that started in that year that has never left.
4 is the age I got to choose to love God because He loved me. Not because I had to but because I chose to. As we get older, we gain wisdom to make better decisions but the same principle holds: that we cannot truly love unless we have the freedom not to.
Taken from a different perspective, 4 might have been a difficult year for my parents since I no longer obeyed just because they said so. But, “if you don’t learn how to play the organ, we won’t take you out on Sundays”, still worked. I suppose at least I had a choice. 4yo resignation is one of the funniest things. Lol. (Looking back, I am glad for the lessons I was ‘forced’ to choose to take.)
4 was also a year reason appealed. When my brother and I got caught up buying tikam-tikam from a flat-shop downstairs of the nanny’s, she’d said “no” to our request to borrow money to buy more useless surprises. In no uncertain terms. She reasoned with us, told us how ugly our pulled faces were, told us to go think about it and simply allowed us to sulk it out till reason sank in. It worked. (I might have been older, bet 4-6.)
4 was the year I chubbied up and looked like my nanny. (We look like the ones we gaze upon huh?) My mother didn’t think it was such a hot look :). Though the older I get, the less I mind these transient outward markings. The ‘look like auntie’ phase serves to remind me of who she was/is. For even today, parts of her common sense, resilience, creativity and authenticity.. are imprinted on who I am and have helped me survive.
No, come to think of it, 4 wasn’t such a good year. But it had great makings :). And I still like 4.
Gosh, my mother had good taste in clothes.