Dear Miles,

Sunday was Mother’s Day, and as a special treat, your fully-vaccinated father went to Trader Joe’s and picked up some of our  favorite frozen croissants. I set them out to thaw the previous night, and on Mother’s Day morning they were poofy and tempting. All I had to do was bake them and we’d enjoy a delicious breakfast together. You and your brothers were all sleeping in, and I was getting really hungry. Those poofy croissants (chocolate-filled for the kids, almond-filled for the adults) were taunting me, so we finally made the executive decision to haul you kids out of bed.

Callum came out first, and he wanted to cuddle on the couch as usual. Tobin came out next, and I made room for him on the other side of me. Tobin is not opposed to cuddling, but he is a very wiggly person, so it wasn’t surprising that he vacated his spot pretty quickly. Finally, your dad coaxed you out of bed, and I half-jokingly invited you to join me on the couch. You never, ever want to hug or cuddle anymore, so I wasn’t expecting you to come sit down and put your head on my shoulder. A big part of that could be the fact that you were forced to get out of bed at the indecent hour of 9:30 a.m. and you were too groggy to register objections, but I didn’t complain.

In fact, I was so moved by your uncharacteristic show of affection that I started to tear up. I had one arm around Callum and the other arm around you, so I couldn’t wipe my eyes without risking messing up the situation. I just sat there for a good five minutes with tears running down my face in happiness. You even woke up enough to tell me an entire plot from an episode of The Simpsons without leaving your position. I don’t think you could see my face from your perspective, and I didn’t want to make a big deal out of and make you feel awkward, but it was a big deal to me.

Eventually we got up and had croissants. They were really good.

Other than Mother’s Day, not much new or interesting has been going on here lately. You got together with your friends outdoors last weekend, which I think was good for you. I hope you can do that more often as the weather improves. At the time of this writing, the FDA should be approving the Pfizer vaccine for your age group any day now. I’ve been Googling “FDA Pfizer 12-15” multiple times a day for weeks, so I sure hope we can check that off our list soon. UPDATE: the news came in during the writing of this post that the FDA approved Pfizer for your age group. Now we just have to figure out the logistics of getting it to you. Nevertheless, we’ll persist.

I also know that I can trust you to wear a mask as long as is necessary, which may be a long time given the piss-poor vaccination rate in our state and nation. I’m grateful that our community has a higher rate than elsewhere, but I still doubt that’s enough for true herd immunity. You’re a cautious person, and I’m grateful in advance for that quality for when you start driving.

On the assumption that you will be vaccinated by August, I went ahead and signed you up for one camp this summer. It’s the advanced session of the FilmScene animation camp you’ve loved for several years now. Last year you did the online version, which I think was fine, but it will be good for you to actually interact with your peers again as a warm-up for going back to in-person school in the fall. There’s a good chance some of your campmates will be fellow eighth-graders at your school, so any leg-up is useful. You’ve maintained friendships with a lot of your elementary school pals and gotten to know some new friends, but some additional face-to-face interaction will be useful. In the past, you’ve always gone with one of your good friends, but he hasn’t decided yet if he’s going to attend. I asked you if you’d want to go even if your friend chooses not to, and you gave a definite yes. I’m happy to know that you feel comfortable on your own.

It will be interesting to see how school goes next year. You’ve had a little trouble getting work done on time, despite all my efforts to keep an organized list of your assignments and due dates. I don’t know if there’s more homework in this online environment to make up for the limited in-class time or if it’s a fair representation of how things will be in-person. It will be harder for me to monitor your deadlines next year if they’re not all on the class websites like they are now. I know the responsibility for keeping track of those things needs to shift to you, and junior high is a good time to learn those skills. We’ll see how things change when you move to in-person school in the fall. It will be a time of transition in many ways.

Your current favorites: online games with your friends, The Simpsons, the extra Sprite we have leftover when making cocktails, and homemade tomato sauce. I made a big batch of it last weekend, because you eat penne with tomato sauce most days. My favorite part of the process is when I ask you to come taste it at the very end. Normally you meet any request for you to leave your room and electronic devices with begrudging acceptance at best, but you come to the kitchen enthusiastically to taste tomato sauce. We don’t have garden tomatoes yet, so we make due with canned, but we do have plenty of fresh oregano. You taste, squint, taste again, request a little more this or that, and finally give the thumbs-up. It’s a pleasure to work out the final tweaks with you and to see your face when you smile and say “Perfect.”

I guess I’m grasping at dregs of connection with you, Miles, as you grow more reluctant to share them. You’ve mostly done well this year, and I know it must be hard to be stuck at home with your family during a life stage when you would naturally be spending more time away from us. I don’t take it personally that you are growing more independent and craving freedom. I want you to have a life of joy and experiences, but I also want you to come sit on the couch with me while we wait for the croissants.

May Trader Joe’s never stop selling them.

Love,

Mom