In exactly thirty days my son will turn four years old. Four. Years. Old.  And I have pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I will be a wreck for the month of September. It’s an odd experience, being in the presence of this little boy. There is a perpetual lump in my throat and tears are always springing up out of nowhere. And even though my whole life I have been somewhat of an “emotional person” in the last four years I have learned more about the complexities of love than I ever thought possible. And this kind of love, the love that we have for our children, it’s always complicated. For instance, the lump in my throat, is it there because…