My dear Miles,

50 months, eh?  That’s a nice number.  This, like the year you were born, is a leap year, so I’ve gotten extra Miles this time around.  I remember during your first year being happy that you were born in a year with 366 days, because you got to be a baby one day longer than 75% of all babies.

But a baby you are not.  Now, with the baby chair occupied by Tobin, you sit up to the dinner table just like a regular guy.  You don’t exactly eat like a regular guy—your food repertoire remains pretty limited—but it’s nice having you at the table with us.  That is, when you’ll deign to join us.  We keep trying to impress upon you the importance of family dinner time, but sometimes you just refuse.  When you refuse, it’s difficult-to-impossible to get you to change your mind.

You’ve been kind of emotional lately.  Sometimes the smallest thing will make you completely flip out, and it’s really hard to predict what those small things will be.  Last night, as I was tucking you into bed, you asked why dinosaurs are just bones and not skin.  I tried to explain as gently and optimistically as I could that when things are dead for a long time, their skin becomes part of the earth and helps plants grow, and since bones are harder, they’re more likely to stick around.  You seemed okay with that explanation, but then you asked when their skin will come back, and when I told you that it wouldn’t, hoo boy.   You got to sleep very late last night, because it took you about half an hour to calm down from that screaming, crying fit.

Extinction is a tough concept for a preschooler, I guess.

At your parent-teacher conference last week, your teachers were shocked when we mentioned that you’ve been defiant and boundary-testing at home, because apparently at school you’re very sweet.  Of course, when I picked you up yesterday, your teacher told me you’d had a rough day and had yelled at several of your friends.  Your teachers view that as a negative, which of course it is, but in a way I’m glad that you finally feel comfortable enough at school to express your emotions.  We did have several talks about expressing frustration respectfully.  I hope that sank in.  [Update:  Your teacher said you did great today, so maybe you were just feeling a bit off.]

I wish you wouldn’t yell at anyone, but maybe yelling at your friends will give you some valuable feedback.  When you yell at your dad and me, we try to model positive behavior by calmly telling you that yelling isn’t an acceptable way to express yourself, that in our family we don’t yell at each other, and by suggesting other ways to communicate.  Something tells me one of your 4-year-old classmates is going to yell right back in your face.

(I admit, I tried that once, but it scared you so much and I felt so horrible about it that I’ve never done it again.)

One of the very best things you’ve done lately was spend time with your Uncle Tyler.  He was able to get away for about a day in Ames, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so excited over a span of 24 hours.  When he pulled into the driveway, you rushed out and jumped into his arms.  From that point forward, you guys were enmeshed in a near-constant game of Throw the Stuffed Animal off the Balcony.  Uncle Tyler even invented a new sub-game that involved trying to land the stuffed animal on the beam.  He also gave you a new book about dinosaurs (skin-on) that we’ve been reading a lot.

Photo by Gary Clarke

Every night we read four stories, and you often want a story from one of the several compilation books you have.  You have a book of Curious George stories (also a gift from Uncle Tyler), The Munschworks Grand Treasury, and a collection with stories based on the various Pixar movies, like Toy Story and The Incredibles.  Recently, when I asked which stories you wanted, you wanted one from the Pixar book and one from the Curious George Pixar book.  I tried to explain that Curious George isn’t part of Pixar, that Pixar is a company that invented some stories and characters and put them into that particular book.

“No,” you replied.  “Curious George is a Pixar book too, because you get to PICK one.”

So now the word Pixar means compilation.  Maybe some day you’ll make a Pixar playlist for someone, or whatever the 2022 equivalent of a mix tape/CD is.

A motif that continues to recur is your absolute sweetness when you deal with your brother.  I’ve mentioned it a lot in these memos, but it deserves to be repeated.  If I’m going to mention the challenges you present, it’s only fair to point out that you are truly a kind, loving brother.  You are always patient when I ask you to be because I need to take care of Tobin.  You do a great job when I ask you to watch him for a moment while I do something.  This morning, we all cuddled in bed together and you gave him so many great hugs and kisses.  He laughed and smiled like he always does when you pay attention to him.  We’ve been having fun at the park lately, enjoying these first warm early-spring days, and you thought it was really cool that you guys could be on the swings next to each other.

The other day, after a trip to the Faraway Playground, we stopped by Hy-Vee on the way home.  I bribed you with the promise of a lemonade to get you off the sand-digging toy, so in we went.  The lemonade we bought was clearly too big for you to handle on your own, so I grabbed another straw to share some with you.  Then I stopped and looked at the nutrition facts.  Ay yi yi!  I’m still working on losing the last of my baby weight from pregnancy, and that many calories just seemed like too many to get from a beverage.

Photo by Gary Clarke

I hesitated.  It was really warm, and the walk to the playground was long, and I was thirsty from pushing that double stroller.  And I love lemonade.  I stuck my straw into the bottle next to your straw and took a long drink.  As I did, you bent your head down and found your straw.  You pressed your cheek against mine and we slurped lemonade together.

At least it was one of those all-natural ones with no HFCS and actual lemon in it.

And even if it hadn’t been, that moment with you was worth it.

I love you so much.

Mommy