Juliette's parents got Jason a bike for his birthday. He was, as you might imagine, quite excited about it. He was somewhat less enthusiastic about pedaling across ground that had even a mild incline, but I'm sure he'll get there.

Dear Jason,

You turned four yesterday. It was a pretty good day—you got to open presents and have a special breakfast with your aunt and uncle; you rode on a real bicycle for the first time; you got to skip your nap; you went to your friend's party at Pump It Up and had lots of fun, and you were very gracious in making sure that he got to be the special birthday boy, even though it was your birthday, too.

You've been doing a lot of that lately, being reasonable and gracious and well-behaved. You do still have your outbursts, but you do seem to have left your threes behind. I love being able to talk with you, now that you're old enough to have real conversations. I love seeing you talk with your friends and your sister, too.

Speaking of your sister, when I wrote your birthday letter last year I mentioned some of the things you thought you'd do when you got to be a big brother. As it has turned out, you have given your sister lots of gentle hugs and kisses (and a few less gentle ones), but you haven't driven my car yet. I said last year that I thought you'd be a good big brother, and you are. I know that sometimes it's hard to have a baby sister, because babies get lots of attention and they don't know not to hit or bite or pull hair. Sometimes you get upset, but even then you're always sweet with Eva. It makes me proud to see the way you take care of her.

This afternoon when were watching gymnastics, you said that you were going to go to the Olympics. You said you were a really fast runner and a really good swimmer. (Then you were surprised that Mommy and I never went to the Olympics.) I don't know if you'll be an Olympian some day, but maybe you will. I love that you already dream big. I hope you can still dream that big when you get to be a grown-up.

I love you, buddy. Happy belated birthday.

Another trip through the archives tonight as I'm gearing up for Jason's birthday. This one was from our trip to Virginia to visit my parents this spring. I was testing out my medium format camera a lot during that trip, but, sadly, it turned out to be busted—only one shot in three was exposed properly. I really miss the experience of medium format; it was a lot of fun.

(I miss my parents, too, just so you know.)

At the end of every bath, Jason likes to fill up these cups and then—once the tub has drained—pour the water from the big cup to the little one, then dump the little one onto his head. Tonight he was very gracious in holding still and out of sight while I took this shot.

As I'm sure you could tell, I was pretty lonely while Juliette and the kids were away. That was, for the most part, kind of pathetic. One good thing did come out of it, though: I spent a lot of time going through my photo archives, and in doing so I hit upon an idea for a new series.

This is the first image I made with the series in mind; I shot it two nights before the family came home. I like it, and I think it works to communicate what I had in mind, but I have a hard time judging my own work. So rather than telling you what I think about it, I'd love to know what you all think.

If you have a minute, click through to see it large and look it over. Leave a comment and tell me what you think the picture is about and how it makes you feel. What do you like about it? What do you think could be better? I'm looking forward to hearing from you.

A little archive diving today.  This is where we got Jason's last birthday cake.  They've apparently been making delicious cakes for 30 years now.  I have no idea how long they've had the weird chef statue.

It slipped my mind, somehow, that Juliette has taken up knitting recently. I wonder what she's been working on while she's been away.

When Jason watches TV he tends to lose track of whatever else is going on in the room. One usually has to speak loudly and stand directly in front of him in order to get his attention. At least he comes by it honestly, though.

There's been no mess in Eva's high chair for eleven days now.  I'm looking forward to seeing it dirty again.

Looking at this picture, I wonder what other children—mine or someone else's—might sit in this chair some day hence.  Will it go to a friend, like the bassinet we gave away recently?  To Goodwill, perhaps?  I suppose I'll find out, eventually.

I finally got my photo library more or less intact again, so I felt like celebrating. Balloons always seem like a party to me.