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