Dear Callum,

You’re really funny and articulate lately, and I’ve been enjoying listening to all the things you have to say.  Sometimes they’re logical in their own way, like your comeback to when I said we couldn’t go to the splash pad:  “I meant we would wear our coats.”  Other times they’re clearly something you’ve heard from your brothers, like when something tickled you in the car last night and you said, “That’s hi-LAR-ious.”

Though you’ve definitely gotten better, it’s still fair to say that you’re in a Mommy-centric stage.  Now at least you’ll let your dad help you go to the bathroom (usually), but you still seem the happiest when you’re right by my side.  I like that in a lot of ways—you’re my last baby and I want to squeeze as much time with you into my life as I can.  It won’t be long before I have to send you off to school in the morning and not see you again until 3:00, and then there will be band and sports and piano lessons and all the other things that keep your big brothers busy.

Still, it can be hard to get anything done.  I’m doing a lot of volunteer work these days, some of which requires focused work time.  You do like to play PBS Kids games on the iPad, and that’s okay for a while, but I don’t want you to turn into a drooling screen zombie.  The school carnival is tonight, and I’ve been working hard on that.  Once that’s over, I’ll be able to get back to our usual schedule of playing.

Recently I was hunched over my computer, trying to get raffle prizes organized, and you asked me to play with Play-Doh with you.  You love food preparation play, and you recently re-discovered a cool Play-Doh set that lets you make lots of different food shapes.  I told you I couldn’t play at that moment, and you looked so sad that I said, “You’re not going to be my sweet little boy forever.  I’ll play with you.”  I saved my work, closed my computer, and sat down to play.  Before I could feel too smug about my involved parenting, you burst into tears.  I eventually got you to tell me what was wrong, and it was that you wanted to be my sweet little boy forever.

Geez.  Way to make a Mommy cry when we’re just trying to make some Play-Doh lettuce.

Then, even worse, I told your dad about it later that evening, and you started crying about it all over again.  I don’t think you understood what I meant—that I wanted to appreciate the time I have with you while you’re still young enough to want to play with me.  You seemed to think I was kicking you out of the family or something.  I assured you that you could be my sweet little boy for as long as you want, and you felt better.  Your dad thinks I’m weird when I tell you and your brothers that you can live with me your whole lives, but he can just keep thinking that, because you are always welcome with me.

It’s birthday season around our house, as you and Miles had yours in January and your dad and I have ours in March.  This is the year you’ve gotten really, really excited about present-wrapping.  When we were out running errands the other day you tried hard to convince me that your dad wanted a bubble-blowing gun for his birthday.  I wasn’t so sure about that, so I tried to put you off by saying he’d rather have …um…(at which point I looked in our shopping cart) a ream of printer paper.

You really took to that idea, and you wrapped it and unwrapped it several times before finally presenting it to your dad yesterday, on his actual birthday.  It’s a good thing I didn’t need to reload the printer before then, because I bet I would have had to face some serious consequences from you.

Another of your favorite things to do right now is to “trick” me by shutting the car door before I have a chance to buckle you into your car seat.  You love it so much that, whenever time allows, I invent some little task I need to do between putting you in the car and buckling you up.  Then when I get back to you, after opening the garage door or putting the reusable shopping bags into the passenger seat or whatever, you’ve shut the door and are laughing your head off.  I feign frustration and marvel over how I fall for it every time.  It seems like it must just be a ritual by now, but you find it so hysterical that we keep doing it.

Your current favorites:  bedtime stories, especially Laura Joffe Numeroff’s If You Give a… series; pretending to be a puppy; cheese; wrapping presents; and being right next to me.

We still have some time together, just the two of us, before you start your preschool adventure in the fall.  Once this interminable winter ends, we’ll be able to get out to the park, take walks, and have picnics again.  Despite the crummy weather, we’ve managed to have a lot of fun this winter, and it’s only going to get better.  Thanks for making everything a little more hi-LAR-ious.

Love,

Mommy