Ok, you're right. He's not quite four. Close enough. (Have I started planning a birthday party? The answer would be: no) Anyway, this post will be dedicated to recent hilariousness from the imagination of my first born.
In his spaceship, ready for BLAST OFF:
With Nora's doll that he named Big Kid Baby and repeatedly threw at the ceiling (over and over and over again):
Skiing the slopes:
Leading the band:
Making a feast from a bucket of rainwater spooned into cups:
Aaaand.... driving me bananas by climbing all over me when I'm trying to feed the baby her dinner: