My sweet Tobin,

Today, the 88-month anniversary of your birth, started at 5:30 a.m. when you came into your dad’s and my bedroom telling us you’d thrown up.  I was just feeling smug/grateful about how our family hadn’t dealt with anything worse than a mild cold so far this fall and winter, and apparently I felt smug/grateful too soon.  You’ve had a rough morning, with trouble coming from both ends.  Now, in the afternoon, you seem to be doing a bit better.  You haven’t had much to eat or drink, just sips of water, but I know you don’t want to miss out on our family Christmas eve/morning fun.  Due to travel plans, we worked out a special deal with Santa for an early delivery, and I hope things can still work out that way.  Santa will definitely come tonight, but I’m not sure we’ll be able to travel tomorrow.  I know that will disappoint you, since you’re looking forward to our Christmas celebrations with extended family, but we can’t go around spreading this kind of uncheerful cheer.

Still, the last twelve hours don’t accurately represent your entire month.  Things have gone well for you, as usual, with no major issues or changes.  Taekwondo is still your favorite activity, though I know your dad was happy to learn that basketball will fit into the schedule too.  We’ll be busy, between that and all your other stuff and Miles’s as well, but that’s okay.  I know you do well with a full schedule, especially one that involves a lot of physical activity.  You’re bummed to be on break from taekwondo for a couple of weeks, and you were equally bummed this morning when I wouldn’t let you do a workout video with me.  Sorry, kiddo, but a person who’s been puking all morning is not in the right position for Jillian Michaels 30-Day Shred.  I promised you we’d do some over break.

I had to buy you a couple of new pairs of jeans earlier this week, because you’ve busted through the knees of all of your existing pairs. I used to blame that on you getting hand-me-downs from Miles, but I’m pretty sure I got you all those pants new.  As you tried on your new jeans, I asked you to please try to be gentle on the knees.  You said, “Mom, it’s just that when I flex, I’m so muscular they bust!”  I’m not sure if you’re truly in the bulked-out category yet, sweetheart.  I still think of you as my little chub-chub, because you were such a roly-poly baby, but I had to take advantage of the adjustable waist feature in those size seven jeans.  They would have fallen straight to the floor off your skinny little buns.

School is going well, and you were disappointed when you had to stay home sick today.  Last night you had a really tough taekwondo workout, and I warned you that you might be sore today.  “Will I have to stay home from school?” you asked hopefully.  I laughed and told you no.  Little did we know, and it’s not nearly as fun to stay home when you can’t stray far from the bathroom.  Frankly, I blame all the hand-shaking you do at the end of each class.  I appreciate the camaraderie aspect, but isn’t the point of the Asian tradition of bowing that you don’t have to touch other people’s grubby hands?  It’s very civilized and sanitary, and I would be just fine with your classmate-respect ritual being limited to bowing.

Even though you get up fifteen minutes later than Miles on school days and leave at the same time, you’re always ready earlier than he is.  It might be because you don’t usually want breakfast, but in any case, you almost always have a few minutes to cuddle with me on the couch.  I really enjoy those sweet minutes.  You often have to finish up reading your dot book, which is a daily assignment that you always seem too busy to do at night.  In any case, your schedule seems to work for you, and it’s nice to sit together as you read.

Your current favorites:  Ethan and Cole on YouTube, Nerf guns (ugh), pepperoni pizza, after-school ice cream, multiple outfit changes within a day, and playing with your friends Kit and Ben.  You’re very proud of something you brought home from school in a big envelope marked “DO NOT OPEN,” and I think tomorrow is the day for the big reveal.

As I sit down to finish this letter, it’s about 8:30 p.m.  You have had a good second half of the day, and as long as no one else does a surprise puke in the night, we may be able to commence our holiday travel as planned.  My hands are raw from all the washing and bleaching I’ve been doing today, but with any luck, we’ve contained the bug to patient zero.  It seems like you’re always patient zero when something goes weird around here.  I think it’s because you’re such a jolly little guy, other people can’t keep their hands off you.  It would also help if you’d keep your hands out of your mouth.  We’re working on it.

I love you so much and am so happy you’re feeling better.  Let’s hope it continues

Love,

Mommy

Originally from December 12, 2013:

A:  Hey Miles, what color birthday hat do you want?  They have red, yellow, green, tan, pink, orange, blue, and white.

M:  (excitedly) Ooooh, tan.

You’ve got to love a kid who gets worked up over earth tones.

Dear Callum,

It’s your last month of being three.  I’ve been meaning to look at the letters I wrote your big brothers when they were at this age, because I wanted to prove to myself that I’ve survived this stage twice more and will do it again.

Update:  I checked out the last two times I wrote a 47-month letter, and I found this quote.  I wrote it for Tobin, but it could work just as well for you:

“Even though I do my best to cherish you and your brothers at every age, I admit I’m looking forward to you being four.  Four is easier than three, I think.  You’ll be at a new school, making new friends and adapting to a new environment.  I’m excited to see how you grow and develop over the next year, especially as you mature and stop screaming so much.”

You aren’t a screamer, actually.  Volume isn’t typically a huge squabble, except when you torture your brothers by begging for their attention through smacks and kicks.  Right now our biggest challenge is that you’re very attached to me and frequently demand that I do things your dad is ready and willing to do.  This could be getting you out of your carseat after a drive, filling your water cup at dinner, or getting you dressed.  The most troubling one is that you will only let me help you go to the bathroom.  This can be at a problem when I’m away from the house for more than an hour or so.  I was at a PTO meeting last week, and your dad texted me saying if I didn’t get home soon, you were going to wet your pants.  This could be a serious issue next month when I take a 3-day trip with your brothers.  My goal over the next few weeks is to get you to go to the bathroom by yourself.  This is an important skill for preschool anyway.   You have until the fall to get that under control, but I bet your dad would appreciate the savings in meltdowns and laundry while I’m gone.

You are stubborn and opinionated, which is common among three-year-olds, but it can get tiring.  You see the freedoms your big brothers have and want to be just as independent as they are.  You seem to be losing interest in little-kid things like Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood and fingerpainting, preferring to build guns out of bristle blocks and make blasting noises as you fire them at me.  I do not like this.  I do not like it a bit.  I try to give you no positive feedback when you do that.  Mostly I just ignore it, but sometimes I scowl and say I don’t like it.  Sometimes it’s hard for me to understand what motivates you.  I’m hoping that you care enough about me that you wouldn’t want to upset me, but maybe that isn’t a clear enough directive.  Your dad’s strategy is to say that you’re shooting potato salad and pudding.  That’s better, I guess, but mostly I wish you’d just build a house with your blocks.

You love your brothers outrageously, and their arrival home from school is the best part of your day.  Sometimes it’s hard on them to immediately start entertaining you, since they’ve both just finished tough school days and want to relax without a little kid all over them.  Mostly they’re nice about it, and usually after you all have a snack together, they’re ready to include you in a little recreation.  I’m sure that’s where you get a lot of your interest in toys and games that are intended for an older consumer.  I draw a hard line at games and videos that depict actual violence, even in a cartoony way, but all three of you enjoy watching YouTubers blast each other with Nerf guns.

You do the same thing I remember both your brothers doing, which is running in one direction and looking in another.  That has led to some bonks.  The night before Thanksgiving, you face-planted into your bed frame and gave yourself a bloody nose and a fat lip.  Fortunately they weren’t too serious, and you looked pretty normal for the family events the rest of the weekend.

Maybe it’s because you’re my last baby, but it’s hard for me to imagine you going to school in the fall.  Your brothers were already in preschool by your current age, because at this point in both of their lives, a new baby had joined the family, and I needed a structured activity for them out of the house.  We’ve been less proactive about that sort of thing with you, and I hope it’s not too much of a shock when you start.  You’ve been to a thousand school functions, so surely you’re familiar with the basic school environment and atmosphere.  As long as I can get you to accept help from a non-Mommy person, you can probably handle it.  You’ve been doing better at staying in your bed all night.  You’re not at one hundred percent mastery yet, but you haven’t slept in your dad’s and my bed in a long time.  What you do instead is get out of your bed and start walking down the hallway.  You’re usually pretty accepting of getting back into your own bed once I intercept you, but it would be even better if you just stayed there in the first place.  I keep meaning to put WD-40 on the hinges of your door, but actually it’s probably better to leave it squeaky, because that tell-tale squeal usually wakes me up so I can catch you before you make it too far.

Your current favorites:  cutting things up with scissors (including opening packages–heaven forbid I tear open a pack of fruit snacks for you), going to Walgreen’s, watching YouTube videos by emmymadeinjapan, waffles, and having blaster battles with your dad and brothers.  You love helping me make your meals, and your favorite shape for toast is still a rhombus.  I have to cut triangular corners off the toast rectangles to form the rhombus, but you still enjoy eating those.  You call them toast pizzas.

Enjoy your last month of three-dom, Callum.  The next year will bring many changes, but I know you can do it.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Miles,

This is your last Monthly Miles Memo of your tenth year.  I’ve been feeling good lately about our overall family situation, and you’re one of biggest reasons.  The biggest news in your life this month has to do with trombone.  Ever since you started a couple of months ago, you’ve been really into it.  You practice without needing reminders, you get excited for both in-school lessons and after-school whole-band practice, and you love earning the ribbons your teacher awards for progress.  One day a couple of weeks ago you came home brimming with exciting news:  due to your hard work and a shortage of low brass instruments in the sixth-grade, your teacher invited you to join the sixth-grade band as well as your usual fifth-grade group.  The group band encompasses students from all the east-side elementary schools, and you told me that only you and a baritone player from another school were chosen.  That will start after winter break.  Your first fifth-grade band concert is tomorrow, and we’re very excited to see you up there, trombone in hand, playing along.

Photo by Gary Clarke

Another special trombone-related thing for you was a featured part in our Family Folk Machine concert.  During a rehearsal, our director mentioned that the song “Precious Friend” would have two brass solos, one by an adult trumpet player and the other by an adult trombone player.  I ran the idea of including you with the other trombonist by the director, and she thought it would be great, so we figured out a part for you.  Your duet sounded great.  You saved it as a surprise for Mubby and Skitter and Nana and Papa, and they were so proud to see you up there, tooting away.  More than one person got a little teary with pride.

School is going well for you.  We had our fall conferences with your teacher, and he seemed like he could have talked for an hour about how much he likes having you in class.  He said you could use a little work in keeping organized and remember what tasks you need to accomplish when, but you’re doing great in terms of hard work, participation, and engagement.  I was most happy to hear that you get along well with your classmates.  Your teacher said he can put you in any group with any other student and trust that you’ll do well together.

Your little brother Callum has been having some difficulties lately.  He’s been in a very big mommy stage and freaks out when I’m available to help him with whatever he needs to do.  This has been frustrating for everyone, including your dad, who is perfectly capable of helping him.  The other night I was away, and Callum was losing his mind in my absence.  Your dad sent me a text that said “100 points for Miles-dor.”  That’s our family code, based on the Hogwarts system of awarding points to houses (e.g., Gryffindor) for a student’s success or good behavior.  He said you really took care of Callum and helped him deal with the tantrum.

You’re not always patient and kind with your brothers, but you are certainly capable of it. In our sometimes tumultuous household, we always appreciate it when you can take a leadership role.  I know (believe me, I know) how stressful and overwhelming it can be to be surrounded by loud, crazy people when you’re a generally calm person.  We’re working together on strategies to deal with that frustration, and it’s satisfying to see you consciously find a quiet place and read a book when I can tell you want to explode.

Your biggest dream right now is to be a YouTube star.  You’ve made a handful of videos, and some of them are pretty good.  You’ve picked up a lot of YouTube tropes from the content creators you admire, such as a joke-based intro and a nickname for your viewers:  Whackadoodles.  Your YouTube name is Mister Whacky, so anyone reading this who would like to view your videos is welcome to search for you and join the Whackadoodles.

Your current favorites: making your own hot chocolate and pasta (probably your two favorite calorie sources), Ethan and Cole on YouTube, using iMovie to edit your own and Tobin’s videos, hanging out with your friend Jacob, reading, and all kinds of music.  You’re still doing well with piano and trombone, of course, and I often catch you singing to yourself as you move through your daily tasks.

Ever since you were a little boy, you’ve been focused.  During a recent snowstorm, we all went out for some family snow fun (actually, fun for 4/5 of us and shoveling for your dad).  Most of us finished our snow sculptures and went inside to warm up, but you stayed out past the completion of the snow fort you and Tobin built.  You added a snowman teammate for your snowball force, including some decorations that your dad might find with the lawnmower this spring.  You were out for what seemed like hours.  I bet that Miles-made hot chocolate tasted better than any cup you’d ever had.

Happy end of your tenth year, my smart, tender, hard-working boy.  I love you so much.

Mommy

December 26, 2017

Tobin: Miles, if you have skin, and you speak English or Spanish or something like that, you’re human.

December 22, 2017

March 28, 2018:

August 28, 2018:

Callum was playing a game and got thwarted by a pop-up.

C: Will you help me close this…ad…itude?

Later: