Dear Callum,

Yesterday I was at Miles’s school taking photos for the yearbook, and a group of fifth-grade girls started cooing over you.  That’s nothing new—you’re very coo-worthy.  But you enjoyed the attention as usual, and as usual, you were pretty well behaved as I carted you around the school getting my work done.  The girls asked what your name is, and when I told them, their eyes grew wide and they got sly, approving smiles on their faces.  Apparently there’s some teen heartthrob named Callum.  We didn’t realize that when we named you, but you make my heart throb, so I guess it’s okay.

Photo by Gary Clarke

You made my entire body throb with exhaustion over the last couple of weeks, because you’ve been sick yet again.  I don’t know if it’s all the germs your brothers bring home from school, or your bad habit of putting communal toys in your mouth in public play areas, or the fact that you were a c-section birth and didn’t get exposed to all the helpful bacteria you were supposed to.  Maybe it’s a combination of all those, but it seems like you’ve been sick as much as you’ve been healthy in your short life.  Fortunately you’ve never had anything seriously wrong.  You’ve never even been on antibiotics, save for the course you got shortly after birth for some reason or another.

You had a goopy eye situation, and I took you to the clinic to have it looked at.  The PA there said that he could prescribe you antibiotic eyedrops, but that they weren’t really necessary and the infection would clear up on its own.  I decided to keep dribbling breastmilk into your eyes and wait it out.  That seemed to do the trick, because your eyes look great now.  You also had a very stuffy nose, which made sleeping difficult for you (and me and your dad).  Your dad spent many hours semi-sleeping with you in the recliner, which helped you a little by keeping your head elevated.  Thankfully, you’re breathing much better now.  You still have a phlegmy cough, but your spirits are back up, and at least your nose is working.

The weather has been all over the place here, with snow and 70-degree temperatures in the same 30-day period.  It’s been great getting out side more often.  I really miss our morning walks, so I’ve enjoyed doing a couple of those again.  You seem happy outside most of the time.  In just a few days we’re heading to the beach, and you’ll get to experience your first time splashing in the ocean and playing the sand.  I let you walk around outside barefoot a little bit yesterday, and you seemed surprised by the sensation.  Sand is going to be even weirder, trust me.  Just remember not to eat it.

You’re still in a clingy stage and you’re still pretty mama-centric, but you’ve been doing some good branching out too.  Your vocabulary includes “Dada” and “Doh” (Tobin), and you love to look out the window for your dad as he approaches from the bus stop in the afternoon.  I can’t even hold you up to that window any other time, because you immediately crane your neck to find your dad, saying “Dada” over and over.  I don’t like to torture you, so I try to limit that position to when your dad is actually on his way.

You also say “Doh” when we’re outside Tobin’s school, and he’s someone who’s really special to you.  You love Miles too, but you haven’t mastered his name yet.  Don’t worry; it took him a while to get it too.  You haven’t made any consistent attempt at saying “Callum” yet either.  Maybe you’re self-conscious about the teen heartthrob comparison.

Your current favorites:  blueberries, crusts from Tobin’s peanut butter toast, drinking out of your cup with a straw, any kind of music or rhythmic sound (the slightest suggestion of music still makes you dance), and walking long distances.  You’re really a walking champ now, and you barely crawl at all.  You really, really wanted to help make your dad’s birthday cupcakes the other day.  You climbed up onto the stepstool Tobin had gotten out, and Tobin did a very good job keeping you from tumbling to your doom.  You did a pretty good job on the cupcake last night, too.

Photo by Gary Clarke

You have a great face full of wonderful expressions.  You’re funny and silly and usually in a good mood.  You’re a delight in so many ways, and I can’t wait for you to be my little beach boy.

Love,

Mommy