Dear Tobin,

My sweet little guy.  You’ve had some rough moments this month, mostly centered around the fact that Miles got his own room.  It’s probably a combination of jealousy over the new stuff he got for his birthday (you believe his loft bed is about a hundred times cooler than your bunk bed) and sadness over him leaving your shared room.  Callum isn’t quite ready to move in with you, and your most recent opinion is that you don’t want him to, anyway.  You’ve had a very difficult time respecting Miles’s privacy in his new room.  He does not want you in his bed, so of course that’s where you always want to be.

It’s tough to be the bologna brother.

Overall, though, you’ve been doing well.  The Mr. Hyde we kept seeing during your early months of kindergarten seems to have mostly gone back into hiding.  While you have challenging moments, you have a lot of happiness and light, too.  You had your annual physical the other day, which should have been in August, but weird insurance requirements and a busy schedule pushed it to January.  I don’t know if it was because it was a special thing just for you, but you had really great behavior and said you loved going to your doctor’s appointment.  It helped that you didn’t need any shots of blood draws, and your doctor is an even bigger Star Wars fan than you.  You guys had plenty to talk about.  My stomach was growling and I was in a hurry to get home to get dinner going, but you guys kept prattling on about CGI Princess Leia and the relationship between Rogue 1 and the original trilogy and blah blah blah.

Anyway, the doctor agrees that you’re healthy and smart.  We knew that.  Your only disappointment was that you passed your vision test, because you want glasses.  You like Harry Potter almost as much as Star Wars.  Harry Potter has done wonders for bespectacled kids everywhere.

We made some upgrades to your room, including a new bookshelf and Star Wars wall decals.  Your dad took you to the new Star Wars movie in the theater last weekend, and you claim it was the greatest movie you’ve ever seen.  That may be true, but you also got a big kick out of watching Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure for family movie night last night.  Remembering how much the Large Marge scene scared Uncle Tyler when he was a kid, I warned you guys about it.  After it happened, you looked at me as if to ask, “Okay, now when’s the scary part?”  I guess claymation bugged-out eyes don’t have much impact on today’s jaded youth.  I’m sure it couldn’t live up to the special effects in the new Star Wars movies, but the writing, acting, and directing have held up well.  You and Miles laughed your heads off, though you were troubled by Pee-Wee riding his bike with no helmet.

Your reading and writing skills continue to grow.  It’s really exciting for you to be able to read.  You feel like you’ve cracked a major code, which I guess you have.  In your chit-chat with the doctor, you mentioned that you saw the trailer for a Star Wars movie because you read an option on the TV that said, “View Trailer.”  I’m a little nervous that I’m not the gatekeeper to all your information anymore, but I guess it’s better than you never learning to read.

It’s probably good for you to have more data sources.  Sometimes I think I’m getting my point across better than I am.  Yesterday we were driving downtown, and I waved to someone I saw on the street.  “Who’s that?” you asked.  “My friend Adam’s boyfriend,” I said.

You puzzled on that for a bit.  “Isn’t Adam a boy’s name?”

“Yeah, he’s gay.”  I thought we’d talked about that enough in a civil rights context that he’d have a reasonable understanding of the concept.

“But…how can he have a boyfriend?” you asked.  “Doesn’t being gay mean you’re married?”

I think we’re clear on the whole thing now, but it’s funny how a kid growing up at a time when marriage equality is a major discussion topic can get mired in the details and miss the big picture.  Keep reading, Tobin.  It’s only going to help.

We’re chugging along through the winter, most of which has been either way too cold or too melty and sludgy to play outside.  We’ve gotten a few play sessions done, which is good, because otherwise you’d burn your energy by running around the house in your underwear waving your light saber and screaming.  You still do that pretty often, but you’d do it even more if we never got outside.  I don’t know how you do it, but you never want to wear clothes.  Most days I find the sweater or sweatshirt I put on you before school wadded into the bottom of your backpack when the day is done.  You take off your socks as soon as you get inside, and often your pants too.  I hope you get over that eventually, because like a lot of things, that’s behavior that’s cute and funny in a kid and creepy in an adult.

You’re still pretty cute and funny for now, though.  I admire your wit and resilience.  I know it’s hard when your big brother makes changes that aren’t yet right for you, but don’t forget that there are a lot of things that are special just for and about you, too.  Nobody else in our family has quite your joie de vivre, your energy, or your ability to make friends where ever you go.  You’re a handful, but you’re a heartful, too.

I love you, my sweet guy.

Love,

Mommy