My sweet Tobin,

It finally happened—you lost your first tooth.  You’ve been waiting and waiting, feeling jealous of all the tooth fairy payments Miles has gotten, wiggling your teeth optimistically.  Once one of them got loose, it freaked you out a little.  I think it got itself into a weird, painful position a couple of times, which scared you off from messing with it.  Finally, though, it came out naturally.  You were pretty proud and excited, and it motivated me to look for a picture of the first baby tooth you got.  So much of childhood is being in a state of dental flux, from the first teeth in infancy to losing teeth in the elementary school years to braces and wisdom teeth later on.  Actually, kids seem to be getting braces earlier than they did in my generation, so that part might come sooner than I imagined.

Looking at the first baby tooth picture of you sure tugged at me.  Your little round, rosy cheeks and big smile make up so many my memories of your babyhood.  You’re still a sunshine puppy.  I remember when we took your passport photo, you weren’t supposed to smile (some kind of nonsense about facial recognition software), but we couldn’t get you to have a serious face.  We counted on customs officials being charmed enough by your cuteness to let it slide, and that gamble paid off.  You’ve been a smiler your whole life, and a gap in your mouth just makes it all the more charming.  A new, adult tooth is growing into the space vacated by your baby tooth, and it looks so big.  It’s hard to imagine that it won’t be long before your permanent teeth outnumber and eventually completely replace your baby teeth.

We’ve been having a fun summer so far, checking off the boxes on our summer activity list.  You and Miles already finished the first level of the library’s Summer Reading Program, and we cashed in our free admission to the Children’s Museum that was part of the prize package.  One good thing about your growing maturity is that I could trust you and Miles to go do big-kid activities while I played with Callum in the little-kid areas.  You guys did just fine, and Callum was able to do his own thing without getting in your way too much.

Your baseball season wrapped up a bit early due to last night’s stormy weather.  Miles still has a couple of games, but it will be nice to take baseball off the schedule after next week.  It’s been fun for you, but also tiring for everyone, and I will be glad to get back to more frequent family dinners.  You will probably be disappointed by that, since I think your love of baseball games is about 60% the playing and 40% the ballpark food.  Maybe I can start leaving your pizza out under a tepid warming lamp for hours before I serve it to you, since that seems to be your favorite way to eat it.

Photo by Gary Clarke

You’re a lot of fun to watch on the ballfield.  Like everything, you approach baseball with verve and enthusiasm.  It’s easy to spot you on the field, because you’re the one dancing around, running in place, or otherwise being wiggly.  This makes it sound like you’re not a focused player, which isn’t really true—you actually do a pretty good job, because you have a lot of energy and little timidity.

Photo by Denny

You are generous and kind.  We went to a special library time at your school today, which they’re holding most Thursdays during the summer.  Miles chose not to come, but he was quite pleased when we got home and showed him the book you checked out for him.  He’s been trying to find #11 in the Captain Underpants series for a long time, but it never seems to be available at the public library.  I did a cursory look for it on the shelves at school, and I didn’t see it.  You did the same thing, but when you didn’t find it, you asked your school librarian for help.  Lo and behold, they found it for you, and you were so happy to get it for Miles.

You were also excited to play bartender last weekend.  You cleared off the whole bar.  Your dad and I weren’t so excited about that, because instead of finding reasonable places to put the things you took off the bar, you just put them on the floor or in other awkward places around the house.  After we got that sorted out a bit, you packed a cooler full of beverages, set out coasters, and served them up to the family.  The drinks were free, but you accepted donations (donashones) to the Children’s Hospital.  We’re going to have to bring your donations to Dairy Queen the next time we go and stick them in their Children’s Hospital collection box.

Your current favorites:  that awful Crainor person on YouTube (actually he’s probably a nice person; I just can’t stand his voice), cozy cuddles, frozen yogurt, semi-nudity, PowerAde, and reading.  Your dad has been reading the Harry Potter books to you at night, and you’re getting close to done with #4, Goblet of Fire.  You are also doing a great job reading on your own.  We were able to play a game of Harry Potter Trivia together because you could reliably read the cards out loud.

You have another outdoorsy day camp next week, and I hope the rainy weather pattern we’ve had this week lightens up for you.  After that, we have a lot of exciting stuff planned, but I’ll review all that next month.  For the time being, I’ll just enjoy your smile, with whatever degree of toothiness you can provide.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Callum,

The summer adventures have begun.  It’s supposed to be a relaxing time of year, but it never really is, and you’re happy that way.  It’s probably nice for you to be doing things that are enjoyable for your age as well instead of just joining in on your brothers’ activities.  Last week we went to the library for their Monday Matinee series, and you sat through the entire movie Coco.  That may be the first time I’ve taken you to a movie and been able to watch the whole thing.  Usually I end up walking around with you in the lobby (or the library, depending on which venue we’ve chosen).  Maybe your attention span is finally long enough that we can all enjoy a movie.

We’re also past the worst of your allergies, which is wonderful because we can now go outside without fear of puffy eyes and itchy ears.  We’ve still been giving you antihistamines every night before bed.  It would be nice to stop that, but your allergies were so awful in May that I’m reluctant to stop a regimen that works.  We have an appointment with the pediatric allergy specialist this week, so we’ll see what they have to say there.  I don’t think allergy shots are an option for someone as young as you, but maybe they have some kind of therapy that would give you  relief during the hellish month of May.

We went to a Cedar Rapids Kernels game last week, as it was a special night with discount tickets for students at Miles and Tobin’s school.  Similarly to the movie, you stayed in your seat (or at least in our row; you did shift a few times between your own seat and my lap and your dad’s lap) almost the whole time.  When you did it get up, it was because you joined your dad or me on a snack run.  Last year, I spent almost the whole game walking around the stadium with you so your dad and brothers could enjoy the game.  It wasn’t too big a deal, because the game aspect of baseball doesn’t interest me much, but it was a lot more relaxing hanging out in my seat than going up and down the stairs with you all night.

The Kernels won big, which I don’t think they’ve done at any of the games we’ve been to in the last few years.  I don’t think you followed the action too closely, but you caught the enthusiasm from your brothers and did some good cheering.  We stayed late for the fireworks after the game.  You spent the whole fireworks show with your hands over your ears, but you watched intently.  Afterward, as we were getting ready for bed, you told me, “[The fireworks] were very loud…and I liked them.”

The summer has also brought the usual forays into the park, hanging out with neighborhood friends and riding bikes.  You haven’t been down into the creek yet, but you might finally be big enough that it would be more fun than stressful (for me).  One good thing is that your brothers are now old enough that I don’t have to watch them every second, so I don’t have to divide my attention so much.  I bet we can all have some good creek fun on some of these warm afternoon.  The gnats season has mostly passed, too, which is a reason for celebration around here.

Your current favorites:  our bedtime routine, which consists of reading stories (often something from the Pete the Cat series while you cuddle your enormous Pete doll) then giving hugs to your dad and brothers; helping me cook and bake; popsicles and other frozen treats; blowing bubbles; playing outside; and taking baths.  You are not interested in using the potty, though your dad and Tobin did manage to convince you to sit on it last weekend.  You know that when the current diaper supply runs out, that’s that.  I’m afraid it’s going to coincide with our trip to the St. Louis area, so we might have to make some minor adjustments to that plan, but in any case, the end is near for your self-soiling.

Don’t worry.  You can still get messy playing outside and dribbling popsicle juice all over yourself.  You rinse off pretty well.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Miles,

Summer has begun, and you’re keen to call yourself a fifth-grader now.  Predictably, I cringe at how big you’re getting, but I also appreciate how trustworthy and (mostly) reasonable you’ve become as you mature.  It’s no big deal to leave you at home while I run a couple of errands, let you play out in the park on your own or with Tobin, or have you walk home from school.  That is a big help when I have to deal with your little brothers.  You’ve also gotten more mature emotionally.  You still sometimes get impatient with Tobin and Callum, but most of the time you respond to reason, and you’ve been doing a good job managing your emotions and avoiding meltdowns.

You haven’t started any of your summer camps yet, but I can tell already that you’re itching to get going.  You were disappointed today when I told you that your first one doesn’t start next week but rather the following week.  In your ideal world, you would probably watch YouTube videos all day, so it’s nice to see that you’re recognizing the limitations of YouTube’s appeal.  Earlier this afternoon I cut you off from screen time, and rather than complaining about being bored, you finished a book you’d been reading and invited Tobin to work on a stop-motion animation project with you.  I give the stop-motion software a pass because it’s a creative screen time activity.

The animation camp you’ll be attending later this month is the first all-day camp you will have ever done.  You’re super psyched about the camp—you did it last year and placed it as your highest priority among this summer’s activities.  Last year, though, it was just half-day, which meant you came home for lunch.  During the school year, I pack you a lunch every day.  This camp provides lunch.  Whenever I attend an event that provides lunch, it’s the part of the whole day I’m most excited about.  For some reason, even bland conference center food is delicious when it’s free (or included in the price, which gives the illusion that it’s free).  I get the feeling you are not so excited about that.  I hope you’re brave and try some new things.  It would be great to add some local restaurants to our family’s options.

The school year wrapped up nicely with an Orff Club concert and your final conference report.  On the ascending 1-3 scale your school uses, you got 3s on everything except materials organization (aka messy desk).  To your credit, you moved up from your beginning-of-the-year score of 1 to a 2.  I can’t fault you too much for that, given the state of my dresser right now.  The key is to just have less stuff, and that’s hard to do when your teacher keeps giving you worksheets.  Your amassed items are still sitting in your 50-pound backpack, because I am avoiding sorting through them.

Your classmates awarded you “Weirdest Student of the Year,” which you accepted as a great honor.  You also told me that your class put on an informal talent show, and you participated by singing a song from Hamilton.  Nana got our family tickets to Hamilton in Des Moines for later this summer, and you and Tobin are outrageously excited about it.  You’ve been listening to the soundtrack whenever you’re in the car with your dad, and considering how long it takes to get to baseball these days with road construction having shut down a main thoroughfare, I think you know most of it by heart.

Photo by Gary Clarke

You did a good job in the Let Me Run 5k, running the whole distance with no walking.  You don’t seem to have much interest in continuing a running program this summer, but I hope you’ll rejoin in the fall.  You had a very busy spring, and it’s still busy with the baseball schedule.  By next month at this time, that will have wrapped up, and we’ll also be back from our trip to the Missouri lake house with Mubby, Skitter, and Uncle Tyler’s family.  We have plenty to cover on our summer activity list, and we keep thinking of new things to add to it (for example, another trip out to the fossil gorge, a visit to Backbone State Park, and seeing the Putnam Museum).  We’ll see how the schedule works out.

Your current favorites:  sleeping in, those squeezy popsicles in plastic tubes, frozen yogurt, going to the library, inane YouTube videos, stop-motion animation (especially using green-screen technology), and reading comics.

I’m having fun with you so far this summer, my sweet Miles.  I can’t wait to see what creative work you complete by the end of the season.

Love,

Mom