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Two, with chubby cheeks and sticky fingers.

Three, climbing into my bed in the middle of the night because he had a bad dream.

And now—

Four.

I crouch down and smooth his hair away from his forehead.

“You look so four.”

His face lights up.

Simon comes around the corner a second later, keys jingling in his hand.

“Okay, birthday boy. Daddy’s gotta go to the store.”

“I wanna go!”

“Nope.” Simon catches Theo when he immediately launches himself at him anyway, lifting him against his chest. “You stay here and help Mommy.”

“I wanna help you.”

“You helped me enough last night.”

“I did the cheese.”

Simon looks at me over Theo’s shoulder. “He ate at least a quarter of the taco bar while we were making it.”

“That’s why I said to grab more shredded cheese.” I huff, drinking the last of my coffee.

Simon snorts and sets him back down, pulling me in for a quick kiss. “I’ll be quick, love you.”

“Love you too.” I press one last kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Bye buddy, be good!” Simon calls, shutting the door behind him.

Theo presses his face against the little window beside the door to watch him leave.

“Come on baby. I gotta put more streamers up.” I nudge him away from the door.

“I can help.”

The three most dangerous words in the English language when spoken by a four-year-old, but I hand him the roll of tape anyway.

Ten minutes later, I regret it.

I’m standing on the bottom rung of a step stool, stretching a strand of green crepe paper across the living room while Theo stands directly on top of my feet.

His little toes are digging into mine through my socks while he narrates every thought that passes through his brain.

He holds up a piece of tape.

Except it isn’t a piece of tape anymore.

It’s a crumpled ball stuck to three of his fingers.

I climb down from the stool.