Dear Miles,

This month, you have blossomed into a full-on bookworm.  It’s the Magic Tree House series that gets you the most excited.  You started out on that series by having your dad or me read to you, then you graduated into reading some of the chapters on your own, and now you can read the books entirely by yourself.  You could have done that a long time ago, actually, but this is the month when you gained the confidence to do it and thrill of reading for its own sake.

You read six (6) Magic Tree House books in one week, and you probably would have read more if you hadn’t run out of the stack you got from the school library and the public library.  Your dad and I are glad you can read them to yourself now, partly because it’s a great activity for you, and partly because they’re awfully formulaic (no offense, bestselling author Mary Pope Osborne.  To tell the truth I’m mostly just jealous).  I shouldn’t criticize—I read a lot of stupid series in my youth too (I’m looking at you, Baby-Sitters Club).  You’re going to finish the series one of these weeks, and from there we’ll see what catches your interest.  I hear the Encyclopedia Brown books are good.  Maybe one of my librarian friends can suggest something that will keep you hooked for a while.

You like to read up in your bunk, sometimes wearing weird costumes.  In fact you like to wear weird costumes a lot of the time.  You didn’t tell me what the poofy paper hat represents, and I forgot to ask.  Maybe between the hat and the cape, you’re some kind of superhero chef.

Photo by Gary Clarke

You wore the Batman costume to welcome your baby brother home last month.  Yesterday you wore your bear hat to play with your friend Niamh, who was wearing a wolf hat.  I had to hide the Leonardo da Vinci wig and beard because they were shedding everywhere.  Otherwise you’d probably still be wearing those, too.

I’m very proud of the hard work you’ve been doing at piano.  You still do a great job practicing and stretching your abilities.  I’m nervous about taking over transportation duties this week, especially on Thursdays, which is piano lesson day.  Your dad has been taking advantage of his flexible work schedule to handle all the school drop-offs, pick-ups, and extracurricular management, but those days are ending tomorrow.  It wouldn’t be too big an issue, except I’m not supposed to lift over 15 pounds for another couple of weeks.  That’s going to make it impossible to lift Callum plus his car seat in and out of the car.  We’re going to have to sort out some kind of method in which I lift him in and out while leaving the car seat installed, settle him into a carrier, and get you and Tobin ushered into your destinations without anybody getting hit by a car.  These next weeks are going to be a challenge.  I am really ready for spring, when we’ll be able to walk to school at least.  Piano lessons will still require hauling you guys in and out of the car, plus I expect the after-piano trip to McDonald’s for ice cream is non-negotiable.  In any case, removing icy parking lots and sidewalks from the equation will make things easier.

I’m happy to say you still love baby Callum a lot, and you do a great job talking to him and otherwise entertaining him when your dad and I need to put him down for a minute.  He’s starting to smile, and we got some good smiles out of him this morning while he watched you and listened to you talk to him.  I’m sure Miles or some other word that represents you will be part of his very early vocabulary.

Sometimes on school mornings, we have a hard time getting you out the door on time because you just want to sit and chat with Callum.  That’s one of our biggest frustrations with you right now.  It can be very hard to keep you on task in order to get done all the things you need to get done in the morning.  We’ll tell you to go get your gear on, and we’ll come back five minutes later to find you sitting dreamily next to your coat and mittens, one shoe halfway on and the other shoe on the floor beside you.  It’s funny, because you’re focused to the point of obliviousness when you’re busy with a task, but when the tasks are time-sensitive and not high-priority for you, you lose all motivation.

Photo by Gary Clarke

We have your spring parent/teacher conference in a couple of weeks, and we’re looking forward to hearing what your teacher has to say about your work in school.  You seem to be doing well based on the work you bring home, but as usual, your academics are not my primary concern.  I hope you’re interacting well with your classmates, taking chances, and pushing yourself and your abilities.  I hope the confidence you’ve gained in your reading is bleeding into other areas of your school life.  I hope you’re as patient and kind with your school friends as you (usually) are with your brothers.  I hope you get your snowpants and coat on in time to have at least a little recess.

Have a good month, sweetheart.  Maybe by this time next month we’ll have some pictures of you frolicking among the daffodils.

Love,

Mommy