Dear Tobin,

As you are a kid who enjoys a lot of action and activity, it’s not surprising that you’ve been relishing the scramble that is the end of the school year. Your teacher has lots of fun activities planned, and every day you’re excited to see what the next one will be. Even though a whole lot of things make me nervous about sending you to school, from Covid to far worse, I’m pretty sure it was the right choice for you. Your friendship circle has grown, you’ve loved the recess soccer games and classroom activities, and you’ve learned a lot.

Your most recent academic challenge was learning the positions of all the states in the U.S. You worked hard on it, employed a lot of interesting learning tricks (I’m not sure why I never noticed that Louisiana looks like the letter L), and got 100% on your test. You know a lot of U.S. geography now, which isn’t helping your indecisiveness about what to do for your eleventh birthday trip. You’ve considered a return to the Colorado mountains, a trip to a nearby city where you could see an NBA game, and camper-based adventure to somewhere around the Great Lakes. If we need to think about renting something, whether a condo or a camper, we need to be getting that done if it’s really going to happen in August. You get excited about every possibility, which is fun for the dreaming stage, but not so useful for the tactical stage.

On a more local level, you’re looking forward to building a summer activity list. The first item on your list is a meal from HuHot, which has been a first-day-of-summer-break tradition for us for a long time. I’m not comfortable eating indoors yet, but HuHot offers a to-go option. There’s a nice park nearby, so I think we’ll give that setup a try. All three of you kids have had excellent school years, and it would be fun to go back to an old favorite in a modified way.

Speaking of modified old favorites, it was a pleasure to be back to a semi-normal Family Folk Machine season. You sang, participated in a shadow-puppet show, guided Callum around, and played bass on the song “Will It Go ‘Round in Circles.” Your bass teacher, who is a friend of Family Folk Machine and frequent band member, helped you prepare, and you did great. One thing I love so much about Family Folk Machine is the leadership’s willingness to include and support members’ varied abilities and interests. Since you haven’t had a bass recital, and I’m not sure you will given the instrument’s inclination toward structure and rhythm over melody, it’s a great way to show off your accomplishments. Plus, the Family Folk Machine band features some very accomplished musicians. It’s nice for you to find a place among people who show you what lifelong musicianship can be.

You recently completed the second phase of a four-year experiment. It’s called Growing Words, and it’s a university study that is tracking the language and reading development of kids. You don’t seem to mind the sessions, even the part where they put your head in a contraption that monitors your eye movements as you read. It’s painless, and they always give you a little toy at the end. That’s better than the dentist, because there’s no painlessness guarantee for that. We also make time for a frozen yogurt stop downtown. During the last session, one of the researchers approached me a little gingerly and said, “Have you ever had Tobin tested for…” I thought she was going to say ADHD or something, since you do tend to be wiggly. Part of the study involves me filling out forms about your behavior, and I was honest about the fact that it’s hard for you to get through a family dinner without jumping out of your chair. However, because you are very successful academically and socially, I have no interest in seeking any kind of medication for you. I’m willing to accept your wiggliness as a pretty harmless part of your personality.

Anyway, the researcher finished her sentence with the words “color blindness.” I felt a great surge of relief and said, “Oh, yeah, he’s color blind for sure.” While we’ve never had you medically tested, your inability to spot cardinals perched in our green bushes is pretty strong evidence. Apparently one section of the test involved color identification, but she assured me it was only a small part of the study and didn’t disqualify you. That’s good, because you get paid a pretty generous amount. At the moment, I’m not sure what you’re saving up to buy. For a while, you and your siblings were hoping to use your pooled savings for a VR headset, but I haven’t heard you express much interest in that for a while. Our friend who has one says his kids used it a lot when they first got it, but usage has dropped steeply since then. I could see that happening in our family, too, so maybe it’s a good thing that you seem to have mostly lost interest.

Everything is more fun with you around, Tobin. It’s been interesting to watch you step into a more active big brother mode with Callum, and I expect that will continue to grow next year. You’ll be in the same school for the first time in a long time, barring further Covid trouble, and I know you’ll do a good job walking home with him and being a good buddy to him if you see him in the halls. Your smiling face will be a wonderful welcome for him as he adjusts to a new environment.

I mean, really—who wouldn’t want to look at this?

Your current favorites: audiobooks, watching NBA basketball with your dad, shooting hoops at the park with your dad, playing LaundryBall (basement basketball into a laundry basket) with anyone who will join you, playing baseball, buying treats from the baseball field concession stand, cookies and milk, helping me make stir-fry, arguing your position on the source of our Sunday-night takeout meal, Orange Crush at cocktail hour, making plans, and living life with enthusiasm.

You’re a joy in so many ways, Tobes. Thanks for bringing so much sparkle to our family and our world. I love you.

Love,

Mom

Dear Callum,

Our long, cold spring abruptly ended a few days ago in a heat wave and an explosion of plant development. That’s bad news for you. Every year I think maybe this will be the year your eyes aren’t too badly affected by allergens, and every year I’m wrong. I spent a long time going back and forth on the phone yesterday, trying to get you into an allergy clinic that offers a sublingual therapy that’s an alternative to allergy shots. I jumped through all the hoops they asked me to, including getting a referral from a pediatrician, but I still don’t have an appointment for you. I think they’re slammed these days; I’ve heard a lot of locals complaining about the same allergens that are attacking you right now. I’m not optimistic that you’ll get in during this allergy season, but it would be nice to have a strategy in place for next year. Fortunately, your worst symptoms usually only last a few weeks. We don’t know for sure what you’re allergic to, but we suspect it’s some kind of tree pollen, and it’s definitely active now. In the meantime, we’re giving you antihistamines, eye drops, and lots of baths. It’s not a perfect strategy, but it’s what we’ve got for the moment.

It’s a shame because you love the outdoors so much. On a nice day, you can spend a long time just hanging out by yourself in the back yard, swinging sticks around and putting rocks into piles. You don’t need playground equipment or a ball court, just some natural elements and your imagination. I only let you outside for half an hour yesterday, to eat lunch on the balcony as part of an online school lunch bunch, and your eyes blew right up.

You’re on a baseball team for the first time, and the usual schedule is that you stay with your dad after your game and watch Tobin’s game. Last time, after you finished your game, your dad had to run you home because your eyes were so itchy and swollen. I was in a Zoom meeting, but I left for a few minutes to get you bathed. It was truly untenable. I think you’re going to skip your game tonight, because not only is it another high pollen day, but it’s 95 degrees out. Those factors combined just seem like more than any little kid should have to tolerate.

Baseball has been a mixed bag so far. It’s your first time playing a sport or being on any kind of team, so you’re trying to figure out the rules of baseball as well as the physical elements. Another consequence of having done online school for two years is that you’re not very well-practiced in skills like lining up and hustling in when your coach calls you. I’m glad you’re at least getting some exposure to that now, because we’re hopeful that you’ll go to school in-person in the fall, and those are important things to know. One bit of bad luck that befell you was getting hit in the thumb with a pitch from the pitching machine at your very first at-bat. It was pretty gruesome, actually, and quite painful for you. Your thumbnail has since fallen off, and you got some cash from the Thumbnail Fairy.

Your injury doesn’t seem to have turned you off to baseball. You still enjoy going when the environment isn’t completely awful. However, you say you don’t like hitting the ball because of the way the bat vibrates your hands and arms. Your dad and I were in Mexico last week for a wedding, and Mubby and Skitter came to take care of you. Somehow you ended up with some new suction cup arrows for the bow you made out of a stick and elastic. You’re pretty good, actually. Skitter agreed when I suggested that archery might be a better sport for you than baseball. I’m not sure how hard real bows vibrate, but maybe less than baseball bats.

Your other extracurricular of the moment is Family Folk Machine. You’d been reluctant to participate in the past, but this time there’s a special collaboration with the Eulenspiegel Puppet Theater for the kids. You and the other FFM kids, including Tobin, are doing a shadow play during one of the songs. That’s been a nice way to ease you into participating. I’m still not sure you’re going to do any actual singing—it’s hard to tell whether your mouth is moving under your mask—but I’m glad you’re a part of it anyway. You were excited when I reminded you that the concert is this weekend.

I need to consolidate the funny and quirky things you’ve said lately, because you’ve had some good ones. You’re in a stage where you like to make observations, and you’re still sweet and innocent enough that you often don’t know how comical they are. For example, before your thumbnail had fallen all the way off, it was dangling from your nail bed fairly disgustingly. I was trying to be reassuring.

Your current favorites: orange soda, theme days in your online class, the Magic Treehouse book series, Minecraft, Wild Kratts and all the obscure animal facts that you learn by watching it, wearing deodorant, meat of all sorts, and the last bits of your Easter candy.

I sure hope that by this time next month, I can report that your eyes are back to normal and you can play outside again. You don’t let it bring you down too much, but I still hate to see you in that amount of discomfort. Nonetheless, I admire your jolliness and interest in spinning around in circles, even if your coach wishes you were attempting to field the ball. You do your own thing, and I love you for it.

Love,

Mom

My dear Sweet-Art,

We are now on your last month as an eighth-grader, your last month as a junior high student. Obviously your junior high experience, especially your seventh-grade year, was unusual, but overall it’s been good for you. You’ve gotten excellent grades, made some good new friends, and had a generally pleasant demeanor. I’m honestly surprised and impressed with how well the whole thing has gone. You’re taking an art class this trimester that you’re really enjoying, and you’re still having fun at Geek Club. Band seems to be going well, too. Your final concert of the year is coming up. A week or two ago, I was singing “Come and Get Your Love” to myself in the kitchen as you ate your bedtime snack, and you said, “Hey, we’re playing that in band.” You’re doing a medley of songs from the Guardians of the Galaxy soundtrack, and there are a lot of great songs on that list. You were excited because the trombones get to do the ooga-chucka part in “Hooked on a Feeling.” It is obviously the best part.

You’re also playing trombone on a couple of songs for the Family Folk Machine concert next weekend. That was all I could get you to commit to doing. You don’t really have a cohort there these days. Most of the teen presence has atrophied, and hanging out with the young kids doesn’t feel quite right either. I understand that not all activities are suitable for all life stages, so I’m glad you at least are able to join in with the band.

Next fall I’ll be watching you on the football field in marching band. I have learned that freshmen only play before the game, not at halftime, which reduces the pressure on me to stay for an entire football game. I know that will change, but for the first year, I’m happy to pay my admission and motor after the freshman band. I’ll have to start clutching my pearls as other people’s kids risk traumatic brain injuries next year.

Your dad and I went to Mexico last week for a wedding on his side of the family, and Mubby and Skitter came to take care of you and your brothers. I know that grandparents tend to see things through grandparent-colored glasses, but they both went on and on about what good kids you were. They cited specific examples, including your politeness and ability to take your dinner dishes to the dishwasher. They noted that you seem happy and friendly. I felt so proud of you when they told me those things. I know the teenage years aren’t the easiest, but the fact that I could trust you to be a kind and helpful human being is a wonderful feeling. I know that I will love you even through the hard times, and of course your grandparents will too, but I’m still glad everything went smoothly.

Your health has been causing some stress this month. When you had your scoliosis MRI, the radiologists noted a growth on your parotid gland, which is a salivary gland located under your right ear. Nobody seemed too concerned about it, but they suggested we get an ultrasound to better assess it. We did that, and once again nobody seemed too concerned, but they suggested a second ultrasound three months later to make sure it hadn’t grown. Well, it grew. After that, people started seeming considerably more concerned. While it’s true that most parotid tumors are benign, the exception is in adolescents, when they’re more likely to be cancerous. They scheduled you for a biopsy, which involved full sedation and a few hours at the Children’s Hospital. You hadn’t been to the Children’s Hospital since shortly after your birth when you were admitted for jaundice. The nurse who was getting you prepared asked if you’d had blood draws before, and you said you couldn’t remember. She looked at your file and said, “Yes, you have, in 2008.” That was when you were zero, so I don’t blame you for not having a clear memory of the event.

Regardless, you did great during the procedure. You got to watch part of a Pixar movie, which is one of your favorite things to do, and you had no problem with the procedure or the anesthesia. We were extremely relieved to get the biopsy results, which were that you have a benign pleomorphic adenoma. While the tumor is benign, it has the potential to turn cancerous, so the doctors advised that you have it removed. We have an appointment next week to talk to the surgeon and figure out the details. One tricky aspect of your case is that a major facial nerve runs through the parotid gland, and your particular tumor is deep in the gland, which means a risk of nerve damage. I’ve learned since then that the nerve damage isn’t necessarily permanent, so that’s good. We’re really hoping to get the surgery done early in the summer so you can have maximum recovery time before things like animation camp, band camp, and school start in August.

It would be a true tragedy if you couldn’t do this anymore.

Your current favorites: planning a D&D game and building characters with your friends, which you swear will actually happen one of these days; Minecraft and Super Mario Maker; pasta; hanging out with your friends after school; root beer; ice cream (premium vanilla is your favorite of the moment); playing with Callum; and wearing clothes that, to me, seem too hot for the weather. We’re in a heat wave right now, and yet you still wear long sleeves and sweatpants. I guess your school is air conditioned, but it seems miserable for the walk home. I try to keep my nose out of your non-critical life choices, so I just do a lot of laundry.

I’m proud of you every day, my beloved. Thank you for making me a mom and for continuing to be a smart, mostly kind, and always interesting person.

Love,

Mom