Dear Tobin,

Nobody in this house is more excited about Christmas than you. You spearheaded an effort to do an online version of the brothers’ gift exchange, which we usually do as an outing to store. Typically, you and your brothers wander around a local store (the Hobby Corner and the Haunted Bookshop are two of our favorites) and give each other ideas of things you’d like. Then I have a conference with each of you about what you want to get for your assigned brother, you all go elsewhere, and I sneakily make purchases on your behalf. In-person shopping is a no-go this year, though we’ve still been trying to support local businesses that offer online order and curbside pickup. I was planning to just skip the brothers’ gift exchange, but you would not suffer that idea. You also helped wrap the gift you chose for Miles, spurred him and Callum to wrap the gifts they picked out for their assigned brothers, and helped organize them under the tree. This Christmas had the potential to be a little sad and weird, and it will be to some extent, because we won’t have nearly the extended family time we typically enjoy. But you are doing your absolute best to spread your enthusiasm widely and thoroughly. It’s a very Tobin move and one I appreciate a lot.

We’re past the first trimester of your all-online school year, which means conferences, and I couldn’t be prouder of your teacher’s report. She sends weekly updates with information about the schoolwork you’ve been doing, so I knew you were keeping up fine with your tasks, but I was also pleased to hear that you’re a kind and active participant in class, too. I guess that shouldn’t be a surprise, because not participating has never been a problem for you. The on-screen element adds a level of complication, but she said you do well not interrupting and engaging in fruitful conversation. That is not always the case at the dinner table, but overall you and your brothers have gotten along well. Our new space helps. You’ve mostly taken over the new downstairs room that your dad imagined as his office, but he’s doing okay for the time being in the guest room. You both keep making noises about trading places, but it hasn’t happened yet, and I wonder a little how smart it is to put you in a room with a big bed—not because you’d crawl in and go to sleep, but more that it might turn into an improvised trampoline.

We have a family tradition of going out for lunch to HuHot after conferences, and that is obviously not an option this year. They do offer take-out, but it’s a good 25-minute drive from our house, and nobody wants noodles that have been sitting in the car for that long. Instead, you suggested that we make our family favorite New York Times chocolate chip cookies to celebrate. Your original plan was that we’d put a couple in the freezer to save for Santa, but they ended up being too delicious. I figured we’d have enough for Santa with our gingerbread scraps (a gingerbread house project yielded a lot of unusable material) and the almond-pistachio cookies I made recently. But you insisted that Santa really needs chocolate chip cookies, and your dad didn’t argue against the idea, so I made a half-batch yesterday after dinner. Then, our friends kindly surprised us by dropping off a plate of assorted treats, so we’re pretty much swimming in goodies.

Oh well. 2020 has been tough. Cookies help.

You’ve been working off some of those cookies and some of your ever-present energy by doing Zoom taekwondo. You moan and groan about it a little before the class starts, because, true to Tobin form, your favorite part of in-person taekwondo was hanging out with friends. You can chat with people a little before class or during your break, but it’s just not the same. Still, you always come back upstairs after class in a great mood. The endorphin rush is real, and you’re such an active person that it’s very good for you to have an outlet. I still can’t think of a time you sat in your chair at the dinner table through an entire meal, but at least you’re happy as you’re busting out dance moves in the space between the table and the wall.

Your hair, which has been fluffy since it first sprouted, was getting really enormous. You agreed to a back-and-sides trim on the condition that I keep the top floppy. I think you look cute, and you seem happy with the look. We didn’t do that until after I took your fake school pictures, so your vast expanse of hair will be immortalized on our mantle for at least the next year.

Your current favorites: pepperoni pizza (always and forever), organizing events like family movie nights and cookie-baking sessions, playing video games with Miles when he’ll let you, listening to audio books (your current favorite is The Strange Case of Origami Yoda by Tom Angleberger), watching The Mandalorian and van-life YouTube channels with your dad before bed, and planning your 11-year-old trip for the future when we can travel again. Your current short list includes Spain, Italy, France, and Orlando for a return to Universal Studios. I have my preferences within your list, but honestly, anything with you is going to be a blast. If we travel out of the country, you’ll need a new passport. We got your first one when you were a baby, and even though a person isn’t supposed to smile in a passport photo, we couldn’t manage to get a picture of you when you weren’t smiling.

It could happen again. You are my sparkling sunshine, sweet Tobin, and I love you so much. Thank you for the twinkle you bring to this season and every season.

Love,

Mom

Dear Callum,

Just to make a weird year a tiny bit weirder, you had an abrupt change in school a couple of weeks ago. Many of your classmates (or rather, their parents) chose to switch to the hybrid learning model our school district offers, which means partially in-person. You and your brothers elected to stay with the all-online model, as Iowa is currently 28th in the world—not the U.S., but the world—in COVID deaths. Forbes magazine ranked Iowa as the third most dangerous state in the U.S. in terms of COVID risk. I understand that not all parents have the kinds of jobs that offer the flexibility of schedule your dad and I have, and I can see how it would be exhausting to work a full-time job and try to coach a kindergartner through all-online school. It’s tiring for me, and I only work a few paid hours most weeks. To me, though, it’s worth it.

Anyway, because there weren’t enough online kindergartners left in your cohort to support a full-time teacher, they moved you to another class. Fortunately you’re still with one of your good friends, Griffin, and Ms. Dee came along with your group too. You’re still getting the feel for your new teacher. She runs things a little differently than your old teacher, and that’s good in some ways and difficult in others. I’m sure you’ll adjust and do just fine. Honestly, you don’t seem to care much one way or the other. You were shy the first day, but after that you started participating more, and I think it will be okay. We just need to get used to the new schedule and the slightly different requirements and expectations.  I can see every day how much you’re learning, and you’ve started reading over my shoulder during bedtime stories. There are parts of some of your longer and more boring books that I consistently skip, and I know you’re going to catch me in the act one of these nights.

I’m late getting this posted, and if I were to describe today’s weather, it would look a lot different from the pictures here. We had a long fall with some nice warm days, and it was fun to spend time outside with you. Now that our home construction project is 98% done, it’s safe and easy to play in the yard. Even better, we now have fully-functional stairs that lead from the back yard into the mud room, so no more walking around the house to come in the front door.

You’re very interested in building things. You wanted to make a tent in the back yard, which we constructed out of tomato cages and an old sheet. You really, really wanted to leave it up, but with snow in the forecast, it seemed like a bad idea. You perked up when you saw some old, dead, dried-up flowers, which you gathered into a bouquet for our dinner table. Anything with scissors is an activity you want to do, and you spent a long time trimming those little mummies. We kept them on the table in a vase for a day or two, except I think you’re allergic to them, because you were getting itchy eyes. Your dad transitioned them into an out-of-view location, where they’ll sit for a while until we’re fairly sure you’ve forgotten about them.

Along with scissors, your other favorite tool for construction projects is gaffer’s tape. Tobin suggested getting you a bunch of rolls for Christmas, and that’s actually a really good idea. I priced them out, and I can’t believe the way I’ve been letting you use that stuff willy-nilly. You will be getting one (1) roll for Christmas, and I certainly hope you can make it last. You like cutting up cardboard boxes, taping and gluing the cardboard pieces into new shapes, and playing with your inventions. You and your dad made a cardboard sword and sheath, and you’ve been waving it around a lot.

You also like setting up elaborate games. That’s exactly the kind of thing your brothers (especially Miles) liked to do, and it’s fun to watch you try to emulate them. Today you invited me downstairs to try to avoid a trap. I managed to avoid it so successfully that you had to point it out to me. It was a slap bracelet in the open position, and when I stepped on it, it snapped closed on my foot. You laughed and laughed as I jumped around in mock horror.

Your current favorites: Wild Kratts; Ryan on YouTube; waffles “How I always like them with lemonade how I always like it”; the Nintendo Switch; watching YouTubers play Switch games; dancing; your stuffed animal collection; and Leslie Patricelli’s books No, No, Yes, Yes and Yummy, Yucky, which are both probably below your comprehension level, but they have a lot of words you can read, so you feel proud about that. The other night when I was marveling at your reading skills, you got exasperated and said, “Why do you always say that?” I guess you’ve gotten so good at it that you no longer requires praise.

You’re so excited for Christmas, thrilled to open a little door on your Alvin (Advent) Calendar every day, and were a proud helper as we decorated our Christmas tree, Captain. Everything is more fun with you around, and I love your crooked little smile. You’re even excited to get a COVID vaccine. You’re no great fan of shots, but we’ve talked about how after we and lots of other people get it, we’ll be able to do fun things again like go to the library, go to restaurants, and even go to school. Unlike your brothers, who are really looking forward to doing school the traditional way again, I think you’d be happy staying here with me for the next few years. As tempting as that is, I know the future holds great things for you, and joining your peers as you experience them will be valuable.

I love you, my sweet pup.

Love,

Mom

Dear Miles,

You’re just starting your second trimester of junior high, which is an adjustment for me because I’ve only ever attended schools that use semesters. You’re still getting the hang of things—you accidentally skipped choir on Tuesday because choir was on B-days last trimester and now it’s on A-days. I told you to write your teacher an email apologizing and explaining why you were confused, and you said you did it, so hopefully he’ll let it slide. The whole schedule can be quite confusing, with certain classes on A days (usually Monday and Tuesday, but this week it was Tuesday and Wednesday because you had Monday off), certain classes on B Days (usually Wednesday and Thursday but this week Thursday and Friday, also because of Monday’s day off), and Friday alternates between A and B. It’s a lot to keep track of, not to mention all the different approaches and timeframes teachers use to communicate assignments, deadlines, and tests.

You’re disappointed to be done with Family & Consumer Sciences, because you ended up really enjoying that. You hadn’t taken much interest in cooking or food preparation prior to that class, but it sparked your interest. You had some fun food labs. Everyone in the family liked the salsa you made except you, but at least you tried it. The energy balls were such a big hit you made a second batch to share at Thanksgiving.

After much debate, we ended up going to Mubby and Skitter’s house for a very small (just us and them) Thanksgiving. They’re retired and take COVID-prevention precautions very seriously, as do we. Since your dad and I both work from home and you kids all go to school online, we were able to make a pact to strictly isolate in the weeks prior to Thanksgiving. It seems to have been fine, since we’re all doing well. We’re continuing our strict isolation for the upcoming weeks as well in order to be able to visit again at Christmas. That means no grocery shopping or anything. We leave the house to play in the back yard and that’s pretty much it. We’ve ordered so many grocery deliveries that we have favorite delivery people. Aboubakar is the best. He’s fast and accurate. Your dad suggested that Aboubakar should start his own delivery business, and I thought he should call it Aboubakar Aboubacares. (My deepest apologies if this is insensitive. But he really seems to care!)

Our school district recently received approval to offer an all-online option even post-pandemic. I mentioned it to you, not really as a suggestion but as a sharing of information. You immediately said “NO.” I agree that it will be valuable for you to get back to real school when it’s safe to do so, but it’s cool that it will be an option. There are kids who could really benefit from the more flexible schedule or less social interaction (maybe kids who are bullied or have anxiety issues) or physical challenges that make it hard to move around a big school. I think about our friend who requires frequent medical treatments and how nice it would be for her to not worry about falling behind when she has to be in the hospital. I imagine it will be much less popular once our population is vaccinated and rates start to plummet, but it’s still an interesting possibility for some situations.

Callum would probably stay home with me and keep doing online school forever, but you and Tobin are both anxious to see your friends for real. You chat with your friends online a lot, which is very helpful, and yesterday you and your friend Jacob were composing music together. Rumor has it you may be starting a band. I’m not sure how that’s going to work, but I wish you well.

As usual, it’s hard to buy Christmas and birthday presents for you. It’s going to be especially challenging this year, since past gifts have included things like passes to the trampoline park and theater tickets. I’m really bummed about not being able to go to a play with you, as that’s become a fun tradition for us. I have no idea when local theaters or touring companies will be active again, and an IOU seems too vague to be a reasonable gift. I just bought you new underwear, too, so there goes that idea.

What you want the most is a phone, and since your dad and I just upgraded ours, you’ll likely be inheriting your dad’s old one soon. I don’t think we’re going to put cellular service on it yet, since you never go anywhere, but we can set you up your own profile. Then it can be a personal wifi device, and you can use it to text and play games. The school is very finicky about cybersecurity (which, of course, I get), but I think they go a little overboard. I used to be able to text you using Google Hangouts, but then they blocked all non-school district accounts from contacting you on that app. You also can’t log into your personal account on the school computer, which is your only device at the moment since your old laptop went kaput. Having the phone will be useful, because quite often I find funny memes online that I want to share with you, but not enough to walk into the next room to show you. You and I have a similar sense of humor (“The 12-year-old boy,” I believe it’s called), and it’s so satisfying to hear you laugh through your closed door after I send you a particularly good one.

Your current favorites: pasta, stir-fry, lemonade, The Simpsons, Among Us, wearing the same clothes for days on end (that’s something going back to school will hopefully address), the chocolates in your deluxe Aldi Advent calendar, singing under your breath throughout the day, and not leaving your room. We’ve had a few lingering nice fall days, and I’m sure you didn’t notice at all.

You’re funny and smart and, overall, handling this nonsense pretty darn well. I love you and I’m proud of you. We’ll keep up the good work together.

Love,

Mom