My special Miles,
I have discovered something wonderful about you this month: you are a fantastic dancer. We were at your dad’s cousin’s wedding a few weeks back, and after you sat patiently through the ceremony, the dinner, and the toasts, you were getting pretty squirmy. But then the DJ opened the dance floor, and you were there. Most of the kids just chased each other around the floor, but you were doing specific moves. You wiggled, you dipped, you jumped, you kicked. You liked it when I spun you around. You were awesome. I don’t think I’ve ever had as much fun dancing at a wedding as I did that night.
We’ve been having dance parties at home, too. I got you a pair of slippers with Yoda on the toes, and the other night you put them on. Your dad and I were wearing our warm booties too. You looked around and said, “We’re the Booty Team!” Then I told your dad to turn on the song “Shake Your Booty,” and we all danced to it. Even Tobin joined in, though he doesn’t have any booties. He just likes the action.
We went to a Justin Roberts concert last weekend, which was very sparsely attended because it was outside and it was really cold. We kept warm, though. There was a lot of spinning then, too, because we had so much space. After the concert, you checked out the enormous inflatable slide. You really, really wanted to go on it. I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea. I know I personally would never do it, since I’m afraid of heights, and you have historically been timid about a lot of things. You insisted, though. I gave in, bought your tickets, and sent you up. You looked so tiny up at the top of that huge slide. And yet, you barely hesitated. You slid right down, laughing all the way, and you would have gone right back up for another round if I hadn’t yanked you off. You needed more tickets, see. Yes, I bought them, and yes, you took another slide.
The next day we spent more chilly time outside, because it was your friend’s birthday. His party was in a lovely park, and you probably would have stayed all day, playing with your friends, if we had let you. I so enjoyed talking to your friends’ parents. Many of them said some variation of “My kid talks about Miles all the time.” I don’t know if it’s because you’re one of the older kids in the class now, or because it’s your second year, or because Mr. Drew is a really good teacher, but in any case, you’ve seriously blossomed. You don’t tell us much about what happens in school, but you’re clearly making an impact on others. None of the parents followed up with “…and he says Miles is a big jerk,” so I’m going to assume it’s a positive impact.
Yesterday you kept kissing Tobin’s arms and neck and making him laugh. You hug him and share your food with him (not always toys, but usually food) and watch out for him when you’re in public. If another kid starts paying attention to him, you rush over and get involved, as if staking out your territory. It’s like you’re saying, “You can play with him, but don’t forget, he’s my brother.” Right now, you and Tobin and your dad are out at the playground. You’re dressed in your Spider-Man costume. I’m a little sad that, for the first time, I won’t be making your costume. Really, though, there’s no way I have the time or energy to make a realistic-looking Spidey suit. Retail won out this time. Maybe next year you’ll be less into licensed characters and ready to be a goblin or something. In the meantime, I’ll make a costume for the little radioactive spider who’ll be tagging along with you.
You’re really into all the superheroes now. You have a handful of superhero shirts, and you’d wear them every day if you could. Luckily for you, you almost can. We do a lot of laundry anyway due to the yogurty little hands that are always touching everything, so it’s no big deal to throw in your favorite shirts.
I hope I can get you to wear a nice shirt for the wedding we’re going to this weekend. You usually do pretty well when given a choice, so I’ll have to pack two nice shirts and let you pick one of them. I got you to wear a dressy shirt for your school pictures by letting you wear a superhero shirt under it, so we might have to resurrect that compromise. You wanted to wear the superhero tee on top of the collared shirt, but I was able to talk you out of it. Oooh, I should have told you that you were in secret identity mode, like Peter Parker or Bruce Wayne. Of course then you probably would have ripped open your button-down to expose your superhero shirt right as the photographer was taking your picture.
In any case, I’ll be sure to dress you in something that allows plenty of room for movement. No way am I going to inhibit your sweet dance moves. Do you think when we’re dancing at your actual wedding some day, I’ll still be able to grab you by the wrists and spin you around so you fly out like Superman? Maybe you’ll have to spin me. Remind me to wear shoes with straps.
I love you, my little Scoop.