2/21/2018

The Tobin Times #78

Filed under: — Aprille @ 10:15 am

Dear Tobin,

When you were born, I wanted to call you Toby.  It really never caught on—your usual nickname is Tobes.  Now that I’m accustomed to it, Tobes does sound pretty good on you, but I always thought Toby would be such a cute nickname for a roly-poly guy with sweet little round cheeks.  Nobody agreed, so there we aren’t.

Still, sometimes I call you Toby (or Toby-heart) as a private name just between us.  You like it.  You’re halfway through your sixth year now, which is hard to believe, since seven sounds so old, but you like to revert to little-boy things sometimes.  It’s when you’re extra tender and cuddly that I call you Toby, and it makes me remember the little bald head and constant smile you had when you were small.  Now it’s hard to imagine you without your signature curls, but your smile has stuck around.

School continues to go well for you.  You still don’t enjoy getting up in the morning—in fact, today, you flopped onto the floor, wrapped up in a blanket as usual.  I asked you if you wanted a juice in your lunch or if you wanted to buy milk at school, and I got no response.  I had to go prod you with my foot, because you were out cold on the hardwood floor.  Once you get going, though, everything seems great.  You tell me that your two best friends are Ben and Aiden.  You’ve had a couple of playdates with Ben, and we’re going to have to get Aiden’s contact information to set something up with him, too.  The teacher sends home a weekly newsletter that includes a couple of pictures of what the class is doing, and I’d say about 80% of the time, you’re in the pictures.  I don’t know if you’re a camera hog or she just thinks you’re as photogenic as I do.  I look forward to talking to your teachers about your progress at your parent/teacher conference next week.

You and your dad have been having fun at basketball, too.  I haven’t been to a game yet this session, but I plan to go next week.  I think you’ve really improved—when we went to Tot Time a while back, you joined in a game with some other kids and were sinking baskets like it was no big deal.  You asked to do baseball again this spring, so I signed you up for that.  It will be interesting to see how your sports preferences evolve.  Soccer has kind of fallen off your radar (maybe because it was the sport your dad was least interested in coaching), but you seem to like basketball a lot.  You and your dad like to watch the Hawkeyes on TV, and you even had a special date with him to attend a game last weekend.

You’ve been craving one-on-one time with each parent lately.  I’ve gotten a couple of notes from you asking for special dates.  It’s hard for me to do that, since I always have another kid or two with me, but we’re going to have to find some time to do it.  Your current plan for us is to go to the library, then the Natural History Museum, then get frozen yogurt.  We might have to pick two.

Yesterday your dad was sorting out the details of a work trip he’s planning to take next month.  It’s a ways off yet, not until after spring break, but it seems to be firmly on your mind.  You’ve been asking about it, seeming sad about the idea of him going.  It’s just for a few days, and you’re excited about extra screen time (the only way I’m going to be able to survive without a co-parent), but you seem worried too.  It will be okay.  I can’t promise you any one-on-one time during that period, but we’ll find ways to make it special.

Apparently you’ve become quite the master of the video game Legend of Zelda.  You and your dad and Miles all play it, and even though I don’t understand the details, from what I hear you’ve accomplished some goals that nobody else in the family has achieved yet.  Just think how good you’ll be after the extra screen time when your dad is gone.

You’re still funny and enthusiastic and high-energy.  You have your moments of ennui (the hot water ran out during your shower last night, and it was the end of the world for about ten minutes), but you always spring back, cheerful as ever.  You relish the joys of life, and even though you and your brothers sometimes clash, the night always ends with hugs.

Your current favorites:  Legend of Zelda, running around in minimal clothing, the cookie butter cookies from Trader Joe’s, your school friends, bedtime cuddles, and dancing around in your towel after a shower.  Sometimes it’s without a towel.

I love you, my special Toby.  I’m glad you’re learning and growing and kicking butt at video games, but you can always be little with me if you want.

Love,

Mommy

 

 

2/10/2018

The Callum Chronicle #37

Filed under: — Aprille @ 10:42 am

Dear Callum,

It’s been a snowy couple of weeks, and you’ve been so frustrated being stuck inside.  We’ve been trying to get you outside when we can, but you’re too little to play in the yard by yourself, and my threshold for standing around watching you stamp in the snow is pretty low.  Maybe when it warms up a bit the snow will be snowman worthy, and I’d be willing to get involved with that.  You love helping your dad shovel snow, which I’m sure slows things down for him.  It reminds me of how much you love to help me cook dinner.  Most of the time I try to take the long view and let you help, figuring it’s an educational experience and time well-spent together.  Other times I just need to get dinner on the table in a limited amount of time.  You don’t like that so much.

I have found that a key to a successful life with a toddler is building twice as much time into any plan than you think it will require.  I guess it’s like a construction project, a human construction project.

You’ve been soaking up your brothers’ attention like crazy lately.  Miles has been having a lot of fun with you.  He’s been giving you airplane rides (complete with turbulence), and you ask him to do it over and over until he’s exhausted.  We have a real airplane trip coming up next month, and I bet it’s going to feel like a letdown compared to Miles’s version.  I wasn’t feeling well yesterday afternoon, and Tobin did such a good job playing with you.  You’re sitting next to me right now as I write this, and when you saw the picture below, you got a huge smile and said, “That’s my guy!”

I’ve been seeing and hearing evidence of your brain growth lately.  You’ve been skipping steps (or unconsciously performing them in your head), which seems to me like signs that you’re getting more sophisticated in your thought patterns.  For example, you and Tobin were going to take a bath together the other night (which, along with taking showers with Tobin, is one of your VERY favorite things to do).  Your special gentle shampoo was in the downstairs shower from the last time you took a shower with Tobin down there, but we needed it upstairs to use in the bathtub.  Your dad and I were talking to each other about it.  It went something like, “Oh, we need the gentle shampoo.”  “Tobin’s down there…”  And without anyone connecting the dots for you or even directly addressing you, you stood at the top of the stairs and shouted, “Tobin, bring me my shampoo!”

I guess that’s probably normal development for a little guy, but every step of progress you make feels like a great innovation to me.  Maybe it’s because you’re one of my favorites.

We haven’t made much progress on the potty-training front, but after having potty-trained two kids now, I’m going with the approach that worked for Tobin:  booty camp.  When it gets warmer out, we’ll have a nude weekend (just you; no need to frighten the UPS guy) when you can have all the beverages you want, cleaning up accidents as they happen, until it clicks.  Tobin really didn’t need more than a few days, an he was virtually accident-free after that.  It was pretty low-drama.  I hope it works as well for you.  You can’t go to preschool until you’re potty-trained, and while I’m not in a big rush for that, I would really like to stop changing diapers.

Ever since Miles took over the room that previously housed the changing table, I’ve been changing your diapers in the master bedroom.  Combined with the stomach bug that’s been roaring through our family, some very nasty smells have lingered in there.  That is not my ideal sleeping situation.  Here’s to the future.

Your current favorites:  pajamas, especially the dinosaur ones and the glow-in-the-dark skeleton ones; painting; shoveling snow; Peppa Pig; cookies from Trader Joe’s; cuddling in bed; and Dum-Dums lollies (except the root beer flavor).

I love your smiles, your big hugs, and all the time I am so fortunate to be able to spend with you.  You’re my sidekick, a fixture at your big brothers’ school due to all the visits you make when we do volunteer work, my special pal.  My lap would be so empty without you.

Love,

Mommy

2/8/2018

Monthly Miles Memo #121

Filed under: — Aprille @ 4:58 pm

Dear Miles,

You started out this month with a birthday party.  We haven’t typically done individual birthday parties, instead doing our big group backyard party in the summer, but I thought for a kid’s big 1-0 he ought to have a shindig.  Rather than a cake, you chose a sundae bar, and you and a couple of your best friends piled on the toppings to the extent that the ice cream seemed incidental.  You also did some drawing of comics and playing of video games, and I think you all had a good time.

Watching and listening to you interact with your friends (especially Jacob) made it clear that you influence one another.  Many of the irritating little tropes you’ve picked up (“Exaaaaaactly;” “I didn’t know that.  I learned something new today”) sounded eerily familiar coming out of Jacob’s mouth.  I bet you two drive your teacher crazy.

It doesn’t bother me too much, though.  Jacob’s a good kid, and if you have fun together, that’s what matters.  I’d be interested to see if his house is also covered in hastily-drawn comics.  You are a lot more text-driven than art-driven, and to be honest a lot of times I don’t even get the text.  You like to use abbreviations and substitutions (e.g., wut for what, 2 for to), which makes them difficult to read for someone accustomed to traditional spelling.  Also, the plots borrow heavily from video games I don’t play.  Zelda has become a fixture in our home.

A recent big adventure was a trip to the Englert Theater for a performance by Nate Staniforth.  He’s a magician and from Ames like me.  In fact, his dad was my dentist growing up.  I’ve heard nothing but great things about his shows, so when I was shopping for your annual Christmas gift of theater tickets, I was quick to reserve seats for his show.  I was mildly concerned because the theater website said the show wasn’t recommended for kids under thirteen, but after asking around, I decided it would be okay for you and Tobin.  It was definitely the right choice.  The only potentially objectionable issue was some salty language, but only in an off-the-cuff way, not an abusive way.  You looked suitably shocked, so I think you felt very mature for attending the show.  The performance itself was amazing.  I won’t get into detail here in case anyone reading this has the chance to attend one of his shows in the future, but rest assured that we give him six thumbs up.

When you found out that his memoir was for sale in the lobby and that he’d be doing a Q&A and book signing after the show, you insisted on getting involved.  I was happy to buy you the book—I believe in supporting my friends’ endeavors, and while Nate is not exactly a friend, he recognized me and remembered Uncle Tyler, who is the same age as him, when we talked after the show.  I think you and Tobin were impressed.  You guys both asked questions in the Q&A, and you maintained mostly good behavior despite being up way past your bedtime.  I love taking you to theatrical events, and I’m glad you’re still willing to be seen in public with me.

It seems like most of my pictures of you are of you while you’re eating.  For a while there you were eating in huge quantities, but now your growth spurt must be leveling off, because you’re back to normal amounts.  It’s a good thing your favorite food, pasta, is cheap, because we were going through a whole lot of it for a period.

We have your school conference coming up in a couple of weeks, and I feel confident about what your teacher will say:  “Miles is a great kid and a great student who sometimes needs to remember the right time and place for blurting out nonsense like ‘chicken nuggets.’  He is creative and funny and his desk is an utter disaster.”  Check this space next month to see if my prediction was correct.

Your current favorites:  everything chocolate, including but not limited to the chocolate croissants from Trader Joe’s; Minecraft; Legend of Zelda; the Philadelphia Phillies, because you like their mascot; giving Callum airplane rides; and McDonald’s chicken nuggets.  That last one surprised me.  As I mentioned above, you enjoy (sometimes at inappropriate times) shouting “I like chicken nuggets!”, but I thought it was all for show since you’ve always been pretty lukewarm on them.  Then we went to a school fundraiser at McDonald’s, which was a pretty miserable experience for me given my dislike of McDonald’s food and crowds.  You ate about ten McNuggets.

You’re weird, but I like you that way.

Love,

Mom

 

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