Dear Callum,

The other night at the dinner table, you made the most complex joke I’ve heard you do so far.  We were having pasta, and some members of the family wanted it with tomato sauce and some wanted it without.  For your first helping, you decided you wanted it “nude,” which was not remarkable, since that’s our usual term for anything uncovered.  Probably ten or fifteen minutes later, you wanted a second helping of pasta, and you said, “I want it dressed.”  I was a little confused, since we were also having salad and there was salad dressing on the table, but soon I figured out that you were engaging in wordplay.  You didn’t want your pasta nude, you wanted it dressed (with tomato sauce).

You had a fantastic Halloween.  We were lucky to have a nice evening for trick-or-treating, and you went along with the big boys like a champ.  I expected to take you home after just a few houses, since you’d already spent quite a while at your dad’s office trick-or-treat event earlier that day and I thought you’d be tired.  You chugged right along, though, hitting house after house and mostly remembering your manners.  At one house, after you received your treat, I prompted you:  “What do you say?”  You looked up at the lady and said, “Thank—Trick-or—Happy Halloween!”  The only reason we went home any earlier than the other boys was because you had to go to the bathroom.  When a kid is in his first half-year of being potty trained, we don’t mess around.

You’ve mostly done a good job on that front.  You decided you want to be like your brothers and pee standing up, which is difficult since you’re so short and can barely reach the edge of the toilet.  Standing on the bathroom stool makes you too tall with too much potential for a wide spray.  You’re getting the hang of it, and in the meantime, I’ve got a container of disinfectant wipes in the bathroom cabinet.

You’ve also been doing a good job staying in the bunk bed with Tobin.  You haven’t come into your dad’s and my bed in quite a while, though last night you did wake up.  After I went into your room and cuddled with you for a bit, you went back to sleep there.  I can just hear you starting to wake up now, and I know you’re going to be excited to see the first snow of the season on the ground.

[Brief interlude for cuddling, a bathroom trip, and waffles.]

You were, in fact, excited to see the snow.  You wanted to go out and play in it immediately, though I think I’ve convinced you to wait a bit and we can go out after lunch.  Your dad did an inventory of snowpants and boots, and he said you didn’t need any new gear this winter.  I’m not sure whether the 2T or the 4T snowpants will fit you better—you’re almost four, but you’re kind of a little guy and still wear some 2s.  I don’t know why we don’t own any size 3 snowpants, but I’m sure for the limited amount of time you spend in them, you’ll do okay.  It will be cute to see you bundled up, and it’s not too cold out yet, so I think we’ll have some fun play time this afternoon.

[Update:  you couldn’t handle waiting till afternoon, so we took a morning trip outside.  I’m actually glad we did, because now it’s after lunch and most of the snow has melted.  Also, the size 4T snowpants fit perfectly.]

Later today we’ll go to the library, because Miles has a class there.  You always enjoy a good library visit, mostly for the computers, but maybe today I can convince you to read some books.  You’ve been so into our Robert Munsch anthology lately that I’ll have to grab a few that aren’t in that collection.  You’re kind of like Miles in that you get attached to a specific set of stories and want the same ones every night for a long time.  That’s one thing I like about the anthology:  at least there’s a large enough selection in there that you switch around a little.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Robert Munsch’s stories, but you can only read Purple, Green, and Yellow and say “super indelible never come off till you’re dead and maybe even later coloring markers” so many times before you’re longing for the days of Curious George.

I’m sure the rest of 2018 will fly by.  These last couple of months are so packed with activity and travel (and crummy weather, which adds to the stress) that we’ll barely have time to catch our breath.  This is our last year of full-time togetherness, so even when it gets tiring, I’m trying to appreciate the time I have with you.  As much easier as it is to go grocery shopping alone, I do enjoy having you with me when I do errands.  You are friends with half the employees at HyVee, and making the rounds to visit them is always fun.  I know when you start preschool next year and I don’t always have you with me, I’ll have to field a lot of “Where’s Callum?” questions.  The bakery ladies will miss you the most, I think.

Your current favorites:  anything you can spray from a spray bottle, your color-changing bath tablets, waffles, Halloween candy, pizza, Robert Munsch stories and videos, building guns out of any toys you can (this is my current least-favorite), playing with your stuffed animals and making them talk, and being included in whatever your brothers are doing.  You’re also into determining people’s eye color, including characters in books who are illustrated in such a style that their eyes are just black dots.

I hope you enjoy the rest of November, my sweet pup.  Maybe you’ll come up with a good nude turkey joke for Thanksgiving.  I feel like you could work the dressing into that one pretty well.

Love,

Mommy