Dear Tobin,

I looked at you yesterday, and I don’t know if it was your recent haircut or what you were wearing or your bone structure, but suddenly you didn’t look like a little kid to me anymore. You’ve seemed extra hungry lately, so I assumed a growth spurt was on its way, but I expected it to happen more gradually. You looked angular and mature, not the soft little pup I’m used to seeing.

It was inevitable, I suppose, but this year seems like it shouldn’t count. With our lives being trapped in amber, it doesn’t seem fair that your last little-boy year should slip away. We went on a walk last weekend and ended up at your school, where you took me on a tour of the grounds and waxed nostalgic (you used the word nostalgic about a hundred times) about different memories you have in different places. You really, really want to back to school, though you bemoaned that you would no longer have recess on the Little Kids’ playground. It was a place you made a lot of good friends. You let me push you on the swings, you showed Callum how to use wood chips as currency, and you peeked into your old classroom windows.

You’re really ready. I dearly hope our school district keeps its mask requirement. I’ve heard about other districts in the state possibly dropping theirs, and with more contagious variants taking hold, I don’t see how anyone can think that’s a good idea. I won’t sleep well until you’re fully-vaccinated. The latest estimates say it will be late 2021 before a vaccine is available to your and Callum’s age group, but you can bet I’ll be madly refreshing the appointment-finder websites to get you signed up as soon as the FDA approves it.

The warmer weather of spring has been good for everyone’s spirits. We’ve been able to spend more time outside, enjoying the park and our balcony. You have a small outdoor birthday party to attend tomorrow, and I know you’ll be so happy to spend time with a good friend. You’re pretty reliable about maintaining social distance, and you’ve agreed to wear a mask whenever you’re not eating. The friends’ parents are both vaccinated, and he and his sister also do online school. It still wasn’t a slam-dunk decision, but you really need friend time, and this seemed like a pretty low-risk way to give you a mental health boost.

You’ve stopped your taekwondo classes for the time being, because they’ve moved to in-person. They’re holding the classes outdoors and with limited enrollment, and while I was fretting about whether it would be okay to sign you up, enrollment filled and made the decision for me. I wasn’t too disappointed when I saw pictures from the first class. It was about forty degrees Fahrenheit, and the students were all bundled up. The warmth of spring that I mentioned above is not yet consistent, and it didn’t look very fun. We’ll keep an eye on things and see about possibly getting back to it in a future session. Again, a vaccine for you would open so many doors.

You’re energetic, remarkably cheerful even through all these challenges, full of laughter, and you still let me hug you. You thrive on activity and stimulation, which is why it’s great that you’re able to get outside and run laps around the park shelter while your dad or I times you. That’s better than running laps around the dinner table, which you would do if we didn’t keep reminding you to sit back down.

It will be interesting to see how you do once you get back to a traditional school setting. You’ve probably gotten used to the greater flexibility that this year has provided. That model has worked quite well for you. You’re the kid of mine who needs the least help managing school tasks. I don’t know if that’s because you’re in the sweet spot of not-too-challenging work mixed with a certain level of maturity, or if this learning model suits you. That’s just the academic side, though. Really, school has never been primarily about the learning for you. You’ve always been able to make a friend wherever you go, and missing that element has been hard on you. You’ve handled it well, mostly, but I know you won’t really thrive until you can get back to a social environment. As tempted as I am to keep you home with me forever, it’s probably not tenable. This is another reason I’m glad you still let me hug you.

Your current favorites: anime series (you prefer subtitles to dubbing), online gaming playdates with friends, Club crackers, glasses of milk, stir-fry, the dwindling supply of Easter treats, and Starbursts. You like sweets, but you’re also the kid in the family who would win the “most likely to eat a vegetable without being threatened” award.

I love you, even if you’re a big kid.

Love,

Mom