Hey there, Tobin,

It’s been a month full of good and interesting events. Most important, you got your first dose of the COVID vaccine. You and Callum both handled it with aplomb, and it makes me feel so much better to know that you’re on track toward full immunity. It’s a good thing, too, because we don’t have a lot of beautiful fall days left, and playing with your best friend outside has been what’s kept you from going nuts while doing school online. On chillier days, you hang out in his basement, but that’s not going to last forever either. Fortunately, there’s an end in sight. You’re going to start in-person school on January 3, after winter break. I haven’t heard yet which teacher you’ll have. You really hope it’s the same one as your best friend, but even if it’s not, I’m sure you’ll have old friends who will be happy to see you.

It’s probably wishful thinking to expect it to last forever, but right now, I barely worry about you at all. You handle your schoolwork with almost no help from me. When I went to the Online Learning Program offices to pick up some second-trimester supplies for you, the librarian working heard me say your name, and she said, “Tobin? I love Tobin!” I told her that I love you too, so it was nice to hear.

We had your conferences last week, and your teachers had nothing but good things to say about you. Your main teacher commended you on your leadership skills and said you’re always engaged with the classroom topics. Your ELP teacher was disappointed when she heard you’d be switching back to in-person school, because she really enjoys having you in class. “Oh, I’ll miss Tobin,” she said. She also showed some of the work you’ve been doing. In ELP, you’ve taken a variety of personality tests, and the results were not very surprising to me. One of your types is the Debater, which would not shock anyone who’s shared a meal with you and your siblings. She also shared a piece of writing you did about the Screwdrivers, which is the name you’ve given your friend group. The group is your best friend, his sister, and sometimes a couple of other people. You said that you were grateful to the Screwdrivers, because the way the siblings in that group treat each other taught you how to love your brother more.

Photo by Callum

Another major milestone this month was your taekwondo testing. You did an excellent job, and three of your teachers individually commented to me that you really nailed it and got high marks from the judges. To my untrained eye, you looked excellent: sharp and confident. You broke the board on the first try, which was not the case for every testing student. It wasn’t the case for you the last time you tested. You earned your green belt, which is a differentiation mark between more- and less-advanced students. You’re proud to have moved up. Your main teacher has said more than once that he looks forward to watching you lead your own students one day. I think he’s hoping to start his own taekwondo studio, and depending on when that happens, maybe you could work for him. I think you’d be a great teacher. You’re taking a break right now, because outdoor classes have ended, but the next session begins right when you’ll be fully-vaccinated. I’m sure you’ll be ready to kick some air from the front half of the room.

You might start basketball again around that time. It’s going to be a big transition to move back to the kind of schedule we had before, with practices and games and playdates and birthday parties. Global devastation aside, I’ve enjoyed some aspects of the slower-paced life we’ve been living. You do still have some activities, like your bass lessons, but I anticipate we’ll all be pretty tired for a while starting in December or January.

You got to enjoy trick-or-treating this year. I made your costume without knowing anything about the character you were emulating (Luffy Wano? Wano Luffy? Anyway, some character from the anime series One Piece). You seemed happy with how it turned out, and you had a good time roaming the neighborhood with some Screwdrivers and, for part of the time, Callum. I think you even still have some candy left. I’m not sure if you’re hoarding the full-sized candy bars you got from a couple of generous people, but in any case, you’re thoroughly sugared-up. It might be hard when you go back to in-person school, because you won’t be able to bop upstairs for a snack whenever you want one.

Your current favorites: books by Stuart Gibbs (currently the FunJungle series), cozy sweatshirts, mixing fancy drinks for yourself and Callum, online and in-person hangouts with the Screwdrivers, peanut butter on Club crackers, tortilla chips, ranch dressing, being silly, and laughing your signature belly laugh. Your laugh is so pure and jolly, Tobin. If it doesn’t work out for you to be a taekwondo teacher, you could consider a job as a mall Santa.

Thanks for bring so much light and happiness into my life, Tobin. You are a smile a minute.

Love,

Mom

My sweet Callum,

The first trimester of your first grade year is nearly done, and your dad and I are so proud of you. As I’ve said before, it’s certainly not ideal that you attended school online all last year and part of this year, but the upside is that I get to witness your academic growth in real time. It’s such a joy to watch you master new math concepts and to see your reading progress from hesitant to fluent. You love doing your science experiments (and I think your teacher loves the fact that it’s not her job to clean everything up). You’ve fallen in love with a literary pig named Mercy Watson. Last weekend, the weather was beautiful, so our family took a trip downtown. I had put some Mercy Watson books on reserve for you at the library, so I ducked in to grab them. As soon as I came back out, you lost all interest in playing on the playground, and you just wanted to read your books. You found a cozy tree nook and dived in. We’ve been reading them together at bedtime, alternating chapters between you reading and me reading, and I love hearing you. You’re expressive and confident, and you’re really getting the hang of recognizing words rather than having to sound each one out. I’m proud of your hard work, grateful for your wonderful teacher, Mrs. Davis, and happy that online school has been a good experience for you.

While you’ve done well in online school, your enrollment is going to change in January. We decided to have you go back to in-person school, partly because that’s the move a lot of families are making, and it’s likely that your teacher will get reassigned to in-person teaching. When I told you that, you got a little teary and said, in a shaky voice, “But I love her.” I love her too, Callum, and I’m so glad you got to have her for the first half of the year. But I’m sure you’ll love your new teacher, too. We don’t know who it will be yet. There two first grade sections at our neighborhood school. We know one of them but not the other, but I’ve heard good things about both. I’m sure it will be a bit of a transition, but it will help that Tobin will go to the same school as you. Most importantly, it will mark a huge milestone in our family: full vaccination for everyone.

I had to go back and look at last month’s letter to remember where we stood at that time regarding your vaccination: “I hope at this time next month I’m writing about you having completed your first COVID vaccine, or at least that we have it on the schedule.” I’m thrilled that we’re already over a week past your first dose, and your second one is coming up on December 1. Next month at this time, you’ll be counting down the days until you’ve completed your two-week wait before earning fully-vaccinated status. You did a great job getting your first vaccine, and the next day, you were excited to tell Mrs. Davis about it. She asked how you felt when it was over, and you said, “I felt safe.” You and me both, my sweet boy. You also really liked the revolving door at the clinic. We’re going to have to find some more of those around town.

You went trick-or-treating with your dad, Tobin, and some of his friends. I thought your Luigi costume turned out well, and I especially liked the finishing touch of having your mustache stuck to your mask. You got lots of candy, which you’ve been enjoying ever since. The weather was pretty nice, and I stayed home to distribute candy through a chute we made out of a shower curtain box. We got lots of trick-or-treaters. I think all the kids in the neighborhood were excited to get out and have some fun. You got home a while before the official end of the trick-or-treating period, and you had fun answering the door with me as well.

Our original strategy was for your dad to take the candy for you, rather than have you get too close to the homeowner, but he said you did not stick to that very well. I’ve also noticed in school that you can be impulsive, jumping out of your seat and running to tell me something that is not important for me to know at that moment. I hope when you get to school in-person you can conform to the requirements of the class. School is sort of unfairly designed to punish kids who have a hard time sitting still, but like it or not, it’s a skill you’ll need to develop.

Another fun fall event was getting together with Aunt Suzy and Uncle Joe. They were camping in our part of the state and even attended the Family Folk Machine concert. The previous evening, we joined them at their campground and had fun doing a little hiking, wood-splitting, and cooking out. They gave you a pocket knife for a gift, and you have barely let go of that thing ever since. There’s not a package in this house that’s safe. On a related note, the pretzels are now in a zip-lock bag, as their original packaging got gutted like a fish. You will not be taking your pocket knife to school, that’s for sure.

Your current favorites: Minecraft, Mrs. Davis, pizza, playing with your siblings, playing outside in the fall leaves, Moose Tracks ice cream, and dressing yourself. You love having chats with me in the minutes between bedtime stories and lights-out. You’re very tender-hearted, and a couple of nights ago I made the mistake of forgetting the ending to the book The Man Who Walked Between the Towers. I gave a very, very abbreviated and sanitized version of why the World Trade Center towers are no longer there, and boy did it take a while to get your tears dried enough that you could get to sleep. You asked how I knew about it, and I said I saw it on TV, because I wasn’t there when it happened. You said, “You mean, it was real?” That launched a new wave of tears, because you are so empathetic that even fictional destruction is enough to wound you. Reality is harsher yet.

So yeah, the transition to in-person school may be a tough one, but I think it’s the right choice. As much as I want to hold you tightly forever and ever, I know that you cannot become the person you need to be until you venture out and experience the world. The world will be lucky to have you.

Love,

Mommy

Dear ArteMiles,

As those closest to you know, you prefer the name Artemis these days. You’ve named yourself after the (male) protagonist of the Artemis Fowl book series, but I think you also like the gender ambiguity of it. Choosing a new name and/or pronouns is a common occurrence in your peer group. It seems like two-thirds of the time you mention a friend, it’s a name I’ve never heard of, or even a word I’ve never heard of. Then, when I asked if I’ve ever known that person by another name, you get annoyed with me. Apparently it’s gauche to make reference to someone’s “dead name.” Look, I get it. I understand what it’s like to be in the life stage where forging one’s identity feels like the most important thing ever. But I also need to know that if you say you’re going to your friend Xendryth’s house, Xendryth actually someone you’ve known since elementary school and I already know their parents. Sometimes the problem arises that Xendryth’s parents don’t know that Xendryth goes by Xendryth, and I’m in the awkward position of trying to figure out how to talk to the parents about the hangout. It’s a lot.

Your dad and I are taking the overall approach of stepping back, letting you set your own identifiers and control your own life within the confines of reason and safety. One thing I know for sure is that you know we love you. I’m glad you feel comfortable telling us important things about yourself. I can’t say for sure what your future will hold, but I’m glad you’re as certain as I am that I will be here for you.

Photo by Gary Clarke

I really can’t complain. Even as you sort out who you are and who you want to be, you continue to be a good kid. You’re getting excellent grades, keeping up with band and Family Folk Machine, and forging strong friendships. You don’t complain about wearing your back brace or doing physical therapy. You sometimes get snippy with your brothers, but that’s nothing new. You also spend a lot of time playing Minecraft and Mario Maker with them, and you never make a fuss when I need you to be in charge for a while when your dad and I go somewhere. You still sing under your breath as you putter around the house, and while you get a kick out of presenting an acerbic face to the world, you honestly seem happier than ever.

You enjoyed still being enough of a kid to go trick-or-treating, but enough of a teenager to do it with school friends and to hang out in someone’s garage afterward. We’re a bit cautious about letting you out into the world, with COVID rates on the rise again and your little brothers not yet fully vaccinated. They’re one shot into the series, though, and that’s a big relief. Last week you told me about weekend plans to go to the mall to celebrate a friend’s birthday (one of those new friends who may or may not be someone I’ve ever heard of because the name is new to everyone). You didn’t specify particular plans at the mall—not a movie, not ice skating, nothing except general hanging-out. I wasn’t crazy about the idea, as a friend of mine recently reported that mask-wearing at the mall was virtually non-existent, and it’s always crowded on a Saturday afternoon. On the other hand, you are fully vaccinated and quite trustworthy about wearing your mask. It’s the sort of thing I would have done with friends at your age, and I don’t want my own fears to do damage to your personal development. As it turned out, the plans fell through, and you ended up hanging out with me that afternoon. We went for a walk around the neighborhood and had family cocktail hour on the balcony.

It was a relief to me in the short term, because in this world full of uncertainty, what I want most is to keep my beloved people close to me at all times. I also recognize that this is an unrealistic goal and not a healthy one in the long term, as I’m not trying to create a Norman Bates situation. Every parent of a teenager has to sort out that tension between allowing freedom and applying boundaries, and this pandemic only makes the decisions harder. We’re anticipating the day when your brothers are fully-vaccinated and we can accept the mitigated risk of living with fewer restrictions. Though our vaccines won’t protect us completely, they will almost certainly protect us from serious complications of COVID, and that is probably a reasonable compromise.

Unless of course all the COVID+ deer that hang out in our yard are harboring dangerous new variants, but that’s another ulcer for another day.

We had a good experience with Family Folk Machine this fall. It was an entirely outdoor session, rehearsals and the performance. I was proud to sing a duet with you, “Ain’t No Hole in the Washtub” from Emmet Otter’s Jugband Christmas. Tobin played bass, and between the three of us, we had a nice little family performance. I’m not sure Family Folk Machine has a perfect spot for you right now, since you’re too big for the kids’ activities, and the adults aren’t exactly your crowd either. There aren’t a lot of teens involved at the moment. It will be interesting to see how your role evolves. I was hoping you would join your school jazz band, but you didn’t want to do that, so I told you that you needed to continue with Family Folk Machine in order to keep music in your life. Also, selfishly, I enjoy that it’s something we do together. You were my first Family Folk Machine buddy when you were just a little preschooler, and I’ve so enjoyed having it be a special activity for us. Hopefully some more teens will get on board so make it a little more fulfilling for you.

Photo by Gary Clarke

Your current favorites: video games, texting with your friends, pasta with homemade tomato sauce, watching the show Foundation with your dad, throwing your socks on the floor, and engaging in witty-but-insulting banter with Tobin over the dinner table. Your dad and I don’t like it, but you two crack each other up. It’s hard for me to listen to, because you are two-thirds of the people I cherish most in the entire world, and I hate to hear you being mean to each other. And yet, it seems to be a bonding exercise of sorts. You are confusing.

The day you were born, I looked at your swollen little face and wondered about all the things I had yet to learn about you. I’m still learning. You’re still learning. I loved you then, I love you now, and I will love you no matter what shape your future takes.

Excerpt from “On Children” by Kahlil Gibran:

…

     Your children are not your children.
     They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
     They come through you but not from you,
     And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

     You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
     For they have their own thoughts.
     You may house their bodies but not their souls,
     For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

…

I want you to have your own thoughts and to dwell in the house of tomorrow. But today, I’m glad you dwell in the house with me.

Love,

Mom