Happy half-birthday, Miles!

…or should I say Dash.  Or Marcus.  Or Dora.  Or Brother Bear.  I can never tell what you’re going to want to be called on any given day, so I just call you Miles and wait for you to correct me.  You’ve been very imaginative lately, and you’ve continued to emulate your favorite characters from books and movies.  Your current favorite books are Harry Allard’s Miss Nelson Is Missing and Miss Nelson Is Back, though the kids in those books aren’t named, so you haven’t made people call you anything from that series.  We’ve been having a lot of fun completing tasks for the library’s summer reading program, and I think you only have one task left to complete before you claim your prize.

Despite being sick part of the time, you’re convinced that Breckenridge, Colorado is the best vacation spot in the world.  While I’m eyeing tropical destinations, you’ve decided we have to go back to Breckenridge for our next trip.  When I asked you what you liked so much about Breckenridge, you told me it was the swimming pool at our condo.  I’m sure that’s not the only fun you had.  You seemed to enjoy taking a pony ride and hanging out at the Riverwalk.  You weren’t too crazy about hiking, but that might have been because you came down with a 102F fever shortly after our ill-fated hike.

Now we’re back home, and everyone is healthy.  We’ve been in the middle of a drought and heat wave the last few weeks, so I’ve had to modify our afternoon routine a little.  We always have an adventure after Tobin’s early afternoon nap, but since it’s impractical to go outdoors, we’ve done other things.  We often go to the library and play in the downtown fountain.  One time we went to the Coral Ridge Mall (pretty much my least favorite place on earth, but it wasn’t too bad on a weekday afternoon).  One time we went all the way to Coralville to try a new frozen yogurt shop (as opposed to the downtown one, our usual haunt).  Whenever we go to a new place, you look forward to finding out what color the floor will be.  I don’t know how you ended up fixated on that aspect of places, but sometimes you’ll ask me to go to “that store with the green floor” and I have no idea what you mean.

I guess that’s part of being (relatively) short.

Another part of being short is having to stand on step-stools to see what’s going on with the pancake griddle, and that set of circumstances led to an unfortunate burn on your arm last week.  You did some major howling, and I’m sure it hurt.  You did a good job holding it in cool water and letting me put aloe and a bandage on it.  You still have your dislike of Band-Aids, which I can’t figure out, because don’t all kids love Band-Aids?  Not you, though.  Therefore, I had to wrap your arm in a bandage with self-adhesive medical wrap all last week.  It made things look much worse than they were, since a couple of Band-Aids would have accomplished the same goal.  It’s nearly healed now, though, so I think we’re going to survive.

Along with new arm skin, you seem to be growing a new confidence.  We’ve noticed a steady increase in your social savvy ever since you started school, but yesterday we saw an unprecedented outgoingness in you.  We went to our friends’ daughter’s first birthday party, and you initiated interactions with multiple adults and kids.  You even got a little out of hand, whacking people with a stuffed bear when you should have stuck to gentle bumps.  A little better sense of control would have been good, but mostly I was so proud of you for putting your usual shyness aside and hanging out with people.  Similarly, you played with your cousins really well at a family get-together last week.  I had to drag you away from both events.  As we were making our rounds saying goodbye to people at the birthday party last night, a woman complimented me on my haircut.  Because I have some social awkwardness of my own to deal with, and because I’m bad at taking compliments, I tried to defer it by saying, “Oh, I just don’t have very pretty hair.  If I had pretty hair like you, I’d keep it long too.”

After I said that, you scolded me.  “You were just kidding about not having pretty hair,” you said.  You were really a bit grumpy at me for saying such a thing, and it warmed my heart to hear you defend me like that.

You’re still very happy hanging out at home in front of your computer, which is what you’re doing right now.  I’m glad, though, that you’re finding enjoyment in interacting with others, too.  Now when I pick you up from school, you’re just as likely to be working with a friend as working by yourself.  You’ve especially taken to some of the new kids in your class.  I think you embrace the big kid role, the veteran, maybe because you’re such a good big brother at home.  More than once lately, when we’ve been in the company of babies, you’ve launched into the ABC song to try to soothe their crying.  It usually works.

Last night I came into the playroom while you and your dad and Tobin were playing Legos.  I sat on the floor next to you and instigated a game of “I love you more than…”  You told me you love me more than chocolate cake, Saturdays, and stuffed animals.

I don’t have to tell you that I love you more than swimming pools, garden tomatoes, and lemonade.  But I will.

My sweet Miles, I love you more than the deepest swimming pool, the ripest tomato, and the sweetest and tartest lemonade.  Thanks for making me smile.

Love,

Mommy