Dear Tobin,

Tonight, as we were all pitching in to clean up after dinner, you were telling an anecdote from one of your favorite books. It was a little bit funny, I guess, but funnier was the way you cracked up as you recounted the way Greg called his brother “Ploopy.” Your laughter is so joyful, pure, and enthusiastic. You feel everything so strongly, and your generally-sunny disposition makes family dinner conversations pretty hilarious.

You get so excited about your favorite things. Last night it was the fact that we got pizza for our Sunday-night take-out ritual. Today it was the fact that you got leftover pizza for lunch. And this evening it was the fact that I made beef and snow-peas stir-fry. All of these events warranted singing and dancing in the hallways.

You have big tender feelings too. Callum was having a hard time letting go of our Christmas tree, and you hugged him and gave him lots of love. Later, you told me, “When he cries, it makes me want to cry too.” Another time recently, after Callum was asleep, I thought he wasn’t breathing the way he normally does, so I leaned over to listen to him more closely. You asked me what I was doing, so I explained, and you said, “It’s okay, I do it too.”

When everything feels dangerous and deadly, I feel good knowing you’re taking care of your little brother. You have such a big heart.

I know you really miss your friends, your extracurricular activities, and all the fun things we used to do, but we’re developing some new traditions too. You and your dad have been bagel buddies for a long time, but it’s become a more firmly-established ritual lately. Bruegger’s has a drive-through, so often on a weekend morning he’ll bring you a bagel and a hot chocolate.

We’re definitely going to stick with online school for the rest of the academic year, because it seems like every day I get an email saying there’s another student or staff member or both at your school who has tested positive for COVID-19. We don’t know yet when the vaccine will be approved for kids, or even if it will protect against the new strains we’re seeing emerge. I know you want to go back, but unfortunately it’s looking like the Governor and legislature are going to pass a law requiring schools to provide one hundred percent in-person education. Our district superintendent sent an email describing the implications of this legislation, including the fact that they would not be able to maintain the health and safety protocols currently in place for hybrid students (those who are in school part time and online part time).  It will mean larger class sizes without six feet of space between desks and a reduction in their ability to equip staff and classrooms with health and hygiene supplies.

Fortunately for us, the district has already decided to continue the all-online program parallel to in-person education regardless of infection rates. I was dearly hoping we wouldn’t have to use it, because I know you and your brothers really want to get back. Hybrid may have been a possibility, but with that option probably getting nixed, I feel even more reluctant to send you to school. The vaccine isn’t approved for kids, and unless so many adults are able to get vaccinated that infection rates plummet, I just don’t feel like in-person is a reasonable choice. I know not every family is in our situation, and many of them rely on having school as a place to send their kids five days a week, but my anxiety would go through the roof if you were in school every day. I know I can’t protect you from everything, but I can protect you from this, and I will.

We’ve found ways to have fun. You and your friend Ben do online gaming together, and sometimes Miles even includes you in his Minecraft games with his friends. You’re still doing taekwondo online, and even though you miss seeing your friends in class, you’re always in a good mood when it’s over. Your dobak is getting way too small, and I was resisting buying you a new one until you were taking classes in-person again, but it’s just getting ridiculous. I talked to your teacher about ordering a new one, but for the time being, it’s just sweatpants and t-shirts for you. That’s actually how I’ve been living most of the time too, and I can’t complain. I don’t know how we’re going to get back to wearing jeans and boots and outdoor weather gear again. You don’t play outside as much now as you would if you were having recess every day, but you have been shoveling snow for your dad. I keep plenty of spray whipped cream around for post-shoveling hot chocolate.

Your current favorites: pizza, of course; your favorite knockoff Starbucks drink; watching videos and playing games on the iPad; being silly; jumping out of your chair at the dinner table and dancing around while other people are trying to eat; and having bloody noses. That’s not really a favorite of yours, but it happens kind of a lot, so I wanted to record it. You had a huge bloody nose in the night a few nights ago, which is almost certainly related to the very vigorous way you rub it. Your pillowcase looked like a Pollock painting, and not one of his better ones. The stain spray (or, as Callum corrected me, the stain-removing spray) worked well, so it ended up not being a big deal. You seem to think it’s kind of interesting. Maybe we should get a humidifier, though.

Your joyfully attitude makes our whole house a happier place, Tobin, and I love that you’re the bubbliest part of our bubble. Thank you for all the warmth and kindness you add to our lives.

Love,

Mom

This is our family’s favorite banana bread. I am blogging it for future reference.

Preheat oven to 350 F. Prepare a loaf pan, including a parchment sling.

• 1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, softened
• 1 cup sugar
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 1 1/2 cups flour
• 1 tsp. baking soda
• 1/2 tsp. table salt
• 1 cup mashed bananas, about 3 (I used 5 and it was great)
  
• 1/2 cup sour cream
• 1 tsp. vanilla

Topping:

• 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter, melted
• 1/3 cup brown sugar
• 1/3 cup pecans

Cream butter and sugar in stand mixer until light and fluffy, at least 5 minutes. In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking soda, and salt. Add eggs to butter-sugar mixture one at a time, then add bananas, sour cream, and vanilla. Add flour mixture in two additions and mix gently until combined. Pour into prepared loaf pan.

Bake for about 30 minutes at 350 F. Combine topping ingredients, and at about the 30 minute mark, remove the bread from the oven and drizzle topping over semi-cooked batter. Return to oven and cook for another 25-30 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. It may have a little depression in the middle due to the topping, but do not overbake. Let cool for 10 minutes in the pan before removing with the sling. Cool completely before slicing.

Dear Callum,

You are now six years old, and you are very excited about it. As is our family tradition, I decorated the dining room with balloons and a sparkly number six to honor your birthday. I make them out of glittery pipe cleaners, and I ended up with an extra one after making yours. You found it, and you used it to shape your own personal sparkly six. One of your birthday gifts was a replacement for your favorite glow-in-the-dark skeleton pajamas, which were getting much too small and much too holey for you to keep wearing. I showed you that they’re a size six, the same as your age, and you found that very impressive. You’ve reminded me several times at bedtime that your pajamas are only for six-year-olds because that’s what size they are. I hope you don’t look too carefully at the tags on your other clothes.

We were able to celebrate your birthday with our bubble buddies Mubby and Skitter, which is good because with you and Miles having birthdays on consecutive days, we had lots of cake to share. You requested chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, decorated with blueberries formed into a 6. You also requested strawberries, which you added to the cake yourself. I had a vision in my head of how the cake would look, and your berry placement preferences didn’t exactly match mine, but it was your birthday so you won.

Your biggest hobby right now is crafting inventions. Aunt Suzy and Uncle Joe sent you a kit with a saw and screws you can use on cardboard, and you built a robot friend out of those. Luckily, with all the online shopping we’ve been doing lately, we have plenty of boxes around for you to repurpose. Sometimes your ideas for inventions outpace the capabilities of you and your assistants, but it’s mostly fun and not too frustrating. You also have been using a lot of gaffer’s tape. You made yourself a pair of gaffer’s tape shoes. They reminded me of how Skitter used to use duct tape to extend the life of his slippers, only you skipped the slippers.

During your winter break from school, you played a lot of Switch, built forts and other geometric structures with a construction set you got for Christmas, read a lot of stories, and didn’t take many baths. We’re finally past your allergy season, so I no longer have to give you a full bath every night. You also have very dry skin, so even without a bath, nightly lotion application is essential. You’re not old enough to be very stinky yet, and your bathroom habits are tidy enough that nothing gets too gross in that department, so I guess we’re in the minimal-bathing sweet spot. Your hair is very unruly, and even though you’re pretty patient with letting me trim it, I’m not sure I’d feel confident sending you to school with your current levels of tidiness. I am counting on the fact that the camera on your Chromebook has low enough resolution that no one can see you clearly enough to judge you.

Except for the obvious social development deficit, school is going really well. You seem to be settling in to your new class. I think that switch was harder on me than on you, since you didn’t seem to form much of a bond with most of your classmates anyway. It’s hard when the kids are just little squares on the screen and are on mute most of the time. You still have your old friend Griffin in your class, as well as your favorite teaching assistant Ms. Dee, so that helped smooth things. Academically, you’re doing very well, learning lots of new reading skills and advancing in math. One great thing about online school is that I can bookmark your favorite activities so you can keep doing them. Your librarian has been offering some really fun coding games, and you spent a lot of your leisure time this afternoon writing little algorithms to make a monster progress through various candy-eating tasks. I am really enjoying the privilege of doing these with you. They’re fun, and I can see how they’re priming you for more complicated tasks down the road.

Another of your favorites is science, because the district has put together some really interesting experiments. We just finished a unit on wood, and you got to make your own particle board and plywood. We’re starting a paper unit now, and you were pretty psyched to see that the dropper will be involved. Dropping water on your wood samples was interesting, and dropping water on paper might be even better.

Your current favorites: pizza, “waffles how I always like it and orange juice how I always like it, extra with no ice,” steak, playing Zelda with your dad, Terry’s chocolate oranges, the What Should Danny Do book series, Wild Kratts and the animal facts you learn by watching it, bedtime stories, and doing modern dance moves as you leave the dinner table. Toward the end of dinner every night, you ask, “May I be excused for…” and what you really want to say is “screen time,” but usually we don’t want you to at that moment. Instead you say, “May I be excused for…nothing?” I don’t know why you’d rather do nothing than hang out with us, but when I eventually say yes, you wave your arms and sway as you leave the room.

You’re good at creating your own fun, whether it’s cardboard robots, model mammoths, or tape shoes. Maybe when you want to leave the table, it’s because you’re creating your own fun in your head, and you need some peace and quiet to do it. Being six is a big deal, and I can understand why you need space to relish it. You’ve learned and grown so much this year. I don’t love the circumstances that led to it, I find it very heartwarming and satisfying to be by your side as you do it.

You’re funny, smart, curious, tender, shy, and still my little sweetheart. I often ask you if you’ll always cuddle me, even when you’re a grumpy teenager. You swear that you will. I won’t hold you to it if your need for space includes space from me, because I know it’s a normal part of development, in but in the meantime, let’s keep hanging out. Every weirdly-placed strawberry, water droplet on wood, and untidy hair is a memory of my wonderful six-year-old. You’re the best.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Miles,

I guess one advantage to having the longest/weirdest/togetheriest year of our lives take place during your twelfth year is that I really got to stretch out the final months before you became a teenager. Of course, it’s kind of like flipping the calendar between December 31, 2020, and January 1, 2021—progress is a process, not a precipice, and one day doesn’t really change much. You’ve been a teenager in spirit for quite some time, rolling your eyes at Tobin’s jokes, staying up late watching The Simpsons or playing online games with your friends, and avoiding my hugs. We even managed to work a Simpsons reference into the way you avoid my hugs. “I’m going to move my arms like this,” I say, making hugging motions, “and if you get hugged, it’s your own fault.” Sometimes it even works.

That is not to say you’re thoroughly surly. You love talking about your interests, and even though I can’t muster much enthusiasm about the Pixar theory, at least I also like The Simpsons. It’s been the same way your whole life. For a while you were into Calvin & Hobbes, and it seemed like the only contributions you ever made to dinner table conversation started with “One time, in a Calvin & Hobbes…” You rarely shared anything about your own thoughts or concerns, and you still don’t very often. It’s up to your dad and me to interpret the specific Simpsons anecdote you mention to see if it reveals anything about your current frame of mind. Mostly, as far as I can tell, it’s just whatever you’ve watched recently.

F0r posterity: the day before your birthday, January 6, 2021, violent insurrectionists attacked the U.S. Capitol and threatened the people and processes taking place inside. It was a scary time, and we can’t be sure the scariness is over, because threats continue to emerge. We talked about it as it happened, and you had a special session in school to discuss it as well. I’ve been trying to include you in conversations as much as possible about the unusual and challenging political climate we’re living in. While I do try to keep the discourse kid- (teen?-) appropriate, you’re smart, and it’s important to be informed. I am hopeful that as 2021 progresses, we’ll see a return to stability and civility, and you’ll continue to pay attention.

Now and then we manage to drag you out of your room to engage in an activity, and you can be lots of fun. You got two new games for your birthday, and we had a good time playing those. You and your brothers decorated a gingerbread house, which was much more fun than the disastrous construction stage of the process. You can be very patient with your brothers, especially Callum. You and he approach life in a similar way: you’re both quiet, a little nervous, and methodical. He can’t tell a joke with a traditional punchline, which frustrates you, but mostly you gel well with Callum. You two seem to understand each other.

The other day, in a rare moment of shared introspection, you told me that even though you don’t like COVID-19 and all the changes it’s brought, you appreciate that it got you out of a bunch of things you didn’t want to do. I think you were referring to the sixth grade track and field day, the spring session of Let Me Run, and possibly piano lessons. I know there are things you miss, like sleepovers with your friends, the Filmscene animation summer camp, and your favorite restaurants, but a calm lifestyle suits you.

We really have slowed our lives down. I was looking through my calendar from last year, trying to figure out when your last doctor’s appointment was, and I was astounded by how full it was of commitments and activities. Now I feel like I can’t handle accepting a grocery delivery and a Zoom PTO meeting on the same day. Back when you were doing some distance running, speed was never a priority for you. Sometimes we’d go out on weekend training runs together, and I was astounded by your lack of interest in even the smallest speed interval. And yet, you always made it to the finish line. I might have had time to go inside, take a shower, and make a sandwich before meeting you there, but you always made it.

Your biggest birthday gift was a phone. It’s not brand new—it’s your dad’s old phone, but wiped clean with a new battery and a shiny new red phone case. We haven’t gotten phone service on it yet, because you don’t actually go anywhere these days, but that will come at some point down the road. In the meantime, you can still use it as your personal wifi device. You’ve gotten your accounts all set up, and I’m excited to be able to text you and send you memes. It surprises me how often I see something on the Internet and want to share it with you. I’m already excited for the moment when I find a really good one, send it to you, and hear you laugh in your room down the hall.

Your current favorites: playing with your phone, pasta with homemade tomato sauce, being a hermit, The Simpsons, Minecraft, Among Us, sleeping late, stretching out your Christmas candy supply to make it last until Easter, and smiling begrudgingly for photos with your mouth closed. One of these days, when we feel confident going to non-essential medical appointments, you’ll get braces. Then we probably won’t see your teeth for two years.

Thank you for making me a mother a little over 13 years ago, my dear Miles. It’s been hard in a lot of ways, but it’s also been the most satisfying and worthwhile experience of my life. I love you more than Homer loves Duff beer.

Love,

Mom