Dear Callum,

It’s springtime again. You enjoy the outdoors quite a lot, and you’ve been having fun getting out onto the balcony and playing in the backyard and at the playground. Tobin started masked outdoor taekwondo, which is held at a local park, and you’ve been going along and playing at the playground there during his class. You also enjoy playing with the other kids afterward, which I think is good practice for re-integrating you into social situations.

We’ve been doing some gardening together, including planting sunflowers. You got interested in sunflowers because we watched a video in which our favorite YouTuber, Emmy of Emmymade, roasted an entire sunflower head and ate it like an enormous sandwich or calzone or something. You found that very impressive. I’m not sure I can commit to roasting and eating a sunflower head, but planting the seeds was simple enough, and I hope they grow into something you can enjoy on a botanical if not culinary level. We’ve also been rooting around in the garden looking at isopods, worms, and slugs for science class. The district’s online science activities, led by a favorite teacher from our home school, are really fun. I admit I sighed when I found out we were expected to actually lift logs and gather bugs from the yard, but it ended up being a fun and memorable activity.

The downside of all this springtime outdoor play is, of course, the consequences for your eyes. Over the course of this month, we’ve been in and (I hope) out of your worst weeks of the year in terms of allergies. Every year, I think maybe this is the year you’ll have outgrown them, and every year they come back. We’ve never had you officially tested—from what I understand, the process of allergy testing is pretty arduous for a little kid, and while your seasonal allergies are pretty awful, the peak is fairly brief. You’ve gotten a lot better about tolerating your eyedrops, so having those in our regimen along with Zyrtec, Benadryl, nightly baths with full hair-wash, and frequently laundry, we get through it okay. I feel awful seeing your eyes so puffy, but you really don’t complain about it much. I do always have to send a note to your teachers warning them that you actually did not get punched in the face, despite appearances.

I’m worried about speaking too soon on this topic, but it seems like your obsession with never throwing anything away is fading. I appreciate your reluctance to waste things, but you often insisted on saving things you would never use again, like disposable straws from juice pouches. We probably could recycle those, but it’s not even the Earth impact that seemed to concern you, just the idea that it wouldn’t be in your possession anymore. Maybe it’s a littlest brother thing. Maybe it seems to you like your brothers have a lot of items in their purview and you don’t. We mostly use reusable straws anyway, so I guess your impulse is reasonable.

As you and your classmates work toward the end of the school year, you have a special activity that corresponds to each letter of the alphabet. You have so far enjoyed art day, bubbles, crazy hair day (out came the Afro wig again), dance party day, and exercise day. We were looking at the schedule, and the last day is Goodbye Zoom. You got tearful at the idea of not doing Zoom anymore, which surprised me. You say you’re excited to go back to school, and I believe it, even though you’re probably a little nervous too. It’s hard to imagine someone actually enjoying Zoom for its own sake. You’ve gotten a lot braver in your classes lately, though, volunteering more and interacting with less support from me. Sometimes I can even get something done during your classtime other than sitting right next to you and prompting you to follow instructions.

You’ve been in a big Daddy stage lately, full of hugs and kisses and interest in spending time with your dad. You don’t usually see him much during the school day—maybe a little bit at lunch or now and then when he comes upstairs for a break—but you must enjoy knowing he’s there. He went out of town for a funeral last week, and even though you didn’t see him much less than usual, you really missed him. You asked over and over again when he’d be home, and when he finally arrived, you dashed out to the garage and climbed into his lap in the car. I think he enjoys the extra attention from you, though he’s still vexed by the fact that you don’t want morning Big Chair time. Both your brothers always snoozed on his lap in the recliner for a few minutes after getting out of bed every morning, even Miles up until last year. It always made me laugh to see such a big kid draped over him on the chair. It reminded me of my cousins’ dog who loved to cuddle on my aunt’s lap as a puppy and never gave it up, even after he was a big adult dog. You never really took an interest in Big Chair time, though, preferring to curl up by yourself for a few minutes in the Poäng chair. But when you’re awake, you love to be with your dad.

Your current favorites: drinking everything with a straw, playing with friends in the park, the new Switch game called Arms that your dad borrowed, pizza, steak, waffles, cuddling, and cute animal videos on TikTok. We watch some TikTok just about every morning during the few minutes before school starts, and you’ve amassed a big collection of favorites. You especially like “Kind Kitty,” a name you gave to a cat who meows gently over subtitles that say supportive things like “I know you’re worried, but it will be okay.” You also like the adventures of a farmer and her animals, including some cute corgis, pigs, chickens, and goats.

I love you, you funny little pup. You’re my sunflower, even when you’re puffy.

Love,

Mommy