12/11/2012

Montly Miles Memo #59

Filed under: — Aprille @ 4:45 pm

My dear Miles,

This is your last month as a four-year-old.  Five sounds awfully old.  Five-year-olds can probably go to R-rated movies, right?  In Canada or something?

We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, partly because your dad has been working a lot of extra hours in order to finish a really big project at work.  I get worn out, especially with your brother in the mix, but I like it too.  We’ve taken advantage of the (slightly creepy) warm fall by taking walks down our path, to and from school, and to the doughnut shop.  We spend quiet time together at home, too.  As we cuddled up under a blanket together one foggy morning, you said, “There’s nothing better than this.”

We’ve had fun doing some holiday projects together, including some special Christmas presents for your grandparents and cooking activities.  We made melted-snowman cookies, which you enjoyed, though you wish we had some real snow.  We haven’t had any yet, and I can’t say for sure when we will.  I heard we’ve broken a record for most consecutive days without snow.  This warmth plus a dry year in general have combined to, in your words, make your dreams come false. We’ve done other things to get our winter spirits on, though.  Mubby and Skittergramps came last weekend to help us get our Christmas tree, and you’ve been having fun looking at toy catalogues.

Sometimes you get frustrated, especially with your brother, and I don’t blame you.  I remember what it was like to have a little brother who wanted to do everything I did and who wasn’t always gentle.  It can be tough.  Mostly, though, you do great.  You enjoy teaming up with your dad and me to try to mold Tobin into a reasonable member of society, and you’re so proud of him.  You’re quick to prompt him to respond when people talk to him, and you reward or chastise him with a chant:  “Tobin, Tobin, Tobin is a no-no-Nobin” or “Tobin, Tobin, Tobin is a sweet, sweet boy,” depending on the situation.

You got a special treat after Thanksgiving:  a visit from your old friend Beanie.  She moved to Texas, but she was up visiting some family for the holiday and stopped by to play for a while.  We miss her a lot.  Your other Thanksgiving adventures were fun, too.  You brought down the house in Albia when your cousin Austin was throwing a tantrum.  You watched, listened, and then deadpanned, “I think he’s misunderstood.”  I thought your Aunt Carole was going to fall out of her chair she was laughing so hard.

Last weekend we did something really special.  We went to see a live theatrical production of Annie.  It was a little nerve-wracking in the beginning.  I foolishly didn’t reserve tickets in advance, thinking we could buy them at the door, and when we arrive it was sold out.  I put us on the waiting list, and as we waited, I thought of a plan.  I told the ticket saleseperson that we’d be willing to pay for two people but just take one seat, if only one seat happened to open up.  Well, that’s just what happened, and the ticket people were kind enough to only charge us for one.  We got a great seat:  fourth row, center.  I was happy to have my little guy on my lap.  The lady we sat next to looked a little nervous when we sat down, but I assured her that you were a great kid, and you didn’t make a liar out of me.  You sat so nicely the whole time, watching carefully and clapping.  The only time you got grumpy was at intermission, and that’s just because you didn’t want the play to stop.

I’m not a big fan of musicals in general, but I can’t deny that there’s something shivers-inducing about that moment when the house goes dark and the orchestra starts up the overture.  Your music teacher from school played the trumpet in the orchestra, and even though you got a shy-attack about talking to her, your smile told me you were excited to see her.  After it was over, you sternly told me, “Next time we see a play, buy tickets.”

We’re getting things organized for your birthday party now.  You’ve chosen a Superman theme, so we’re making invitations and choosing decorations and putting together treat bags for your friends.  I’m trying to think of some kind of game we could play, something easy and fun for preschoolers.  Throw the Kryptonite at Superman?  That seems a little rude.  We’ll have to think about that.

Photo by Gary Clarke

You have a lot of changes coming up in your fifth year, my sweet Miles.  I’ve loved having you as my four-year-old, and for next month’s letter, I’ll try to sum up what this fourth year has meant to you and our whole family.  For the time being, I’ll cuddle you up tightly and agree that there’s nothing better than this.

With all the love I’ve got,

Mommy

 

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