My dear Tobin,

It’s been a busy and fun month for you. First of all, you finally got to be part of the winning team in your school spelling bee. It’s the first time the bee has been held since pre-pandemic times. When you were in second grade, you received the assignment to write your goal for the year. Your goal was to win the spelling bee. Now, three years later, you and your teammate realized that dream. I was so happy and proud of you. It was tough to watch you, because you and Callum were competing at the same time in different rooms. I was dashing all over the school, trying to glimpse your moments of success and challenge. When you and your partner hear the announcement that you were the winners, your mask couldn’t disguise your excitement. It’s extra special to see your name on the official winners’ plaque. It’s sitting in our house right now, because it was your dad’s job as spelling bee chair to coordinate the engraving, but soon it will be on the wall at school for all to admire.

You have one more year in elementary school, so you’ll get to enjoy the glory as people pass by and see your name. The school system is restructuring a bit, changing to a sixth-seventh-eighth middle school model, but not until after you finish sixth grade in elementary school. It’s special that you’ll get to be part of the last class of sixth graders graduating from elementary school in our district. You’re also happy because you were part of putting a time capsule together that will be opened in 2024, and if you hadn’t been at the same school at that time, you would have missed it.

Your school year went very well. As usual, I have very few concerns about you. You did well academically both in your regular classroom and in ELP. You and your ELP classmates did a trimester-long project about making a business. In your case, it was a restaurant: Luftwaffé, the Waffle Café (my apologies if I spelled that wrong). You planned out all kinds of variables and strategies about how to make a success, and on the last day, you made waffles in class. Fortunately, you have ELP first thing in the morning at school, so I skipped feeding you breakfast that day and let you be a patron at your own restaurant. You got to bring toppings, and you admitted (bragged about) squirting canned whipped topping directly into your mouth.

You remain mostly a happy and fun kid, though you occasionally slip into a bout of moodiness that I guess is to be expected in the tween years. Your favorite thing to do in the world is spend time with your friends, whether you’re riding your bikes around the neighborhood, playing video games, playing sports, or sleeping over. You get the crabbiest when I won’t let you do the things you want to do. We had a miscommunication about a potential sleepover a couple of days before our vacation. It wasn’t great timing anyway because we were about to be stuck in a car and single hotel room together for the first chunk of the trip, and I require some health precautions like masking in common spaces and social distancing at meals after I let you do an unmasked social event like a sleepover. Callum is on immunosuppressant drugs, and we’re working hard to protect him not only from COVID, but from other illnesses and infections as well. So anyway, originally I thought the timing of the potential sleepover was impossible, but it turned out I misunderstood and it was merely inconvenient. Boy, were you mad at me when you found out it was happening at a time when you could have potentially attended.

You’re still a sweet guy, though. You want me around at your games and events, and you were very happy after school got out and I could stay till the end of your baseball games. During the school year, they went so late that I had to leave partway through in order to get Callum showered, fed, teeth brushed and into bed at a reasonable time. Once we got to start staying till the finish, you were always happy to see me in the crowd. You’re developing your skills as a pitcher. You’re still a beginner in that area, but you’re getting better, and you made your goal of striking out a batter. You do funny little celebration dances and chest thumps to acknowledge successes, nothing obnoxious or offensive, but noticeable to those of us watching you closely. It always makes me smile to see you expressing the joy that defines your personality.

Baseball season is over now. Another thing that irritated you was that you had to miss the championship tournament due to our vacation schedule. You knew about that prior to starting baseball, and asked you whether you’d find that so frustrating that you’d rather skip it and just do soccer in the spring. No, you insisted: you still wanted to do baseball. It made for a busy, busy spring, with you and Callum playing both soccer and baseball, but you truly love it. Next year might be a little different, because Callum will change leagues, and you’ll play your games at the same time rather than consecutively. That means you won’t have that extra hour and a half before your game starts to pal around with your friends, eat concession stand food, and play catch. Something tells me you might insist on going early to get some of that done.

Your current favorites: sports, playing with your friends, swimming, torturing me by telling me about dangerous things you did when I wasn’t looking, snacking, being a goofball, introducing Callum to your favorite childhood TV shows like Scooby Doo and Odd Squad, and playing online games with your friends. You used your own money to buy a microphone headset, which makes you look like a very fancy gamer indeed.

You’re full of strong feelings, my dear Tobin, and I’m glad that most of them come out as happiness and enthusiasm. Things are never dull if you’re in the vicinity, and you push my boundaries most days. I hope you look back on your kid years and know that I felt a constant struggle to balance letting you have wild adventures and keeping you safe. I appreciate the way you help me evaluate my motivations and look beyond my fears. You give me worry-wrinkles but a whole lot of laugh lines too. You’re worth every single one.

Love,

Mom

Dear Callum,

This month has a been a big deal for you. You finished second grade just splendidly, happy and accomplished. You made friends, did fantastically on your school work, and made your teacher wish she could keep you for another year. I’m so, so proud of how well you transitioned to in-person school. You’re a rock star. We were happy to see that you qualified for ELP next year, so you’ll be able to continue with teacher who taught your enrichment classes this year. You really like her, and she’s retiring after the 2023-24 school year, so I’m glad you’ll get one more year with her. Third grade marks the beginning of the “big kid” designation at your school. It’s hard for me to fathom that you could have such a label, but time is relentless. Tobin was going into third grade when the pandemic began, and that whole timeframe has been such a blur. If this school year is a good indicator, I know you’ll do great in third grade and beyond.

You participated in the school team spelling bee for the first time, as it’s the first time it’s been held since you’ve been eligible. You studied hard, putting in lots of hours into learning and reviewing the long list of words. Your hard work paid off, because you and your teammates came home with the victory. Your big sibling Artemis was even one of the judges, so it was great to have it be a whole-family event. Don’t worry–they didn’t cheat for you. You and your teammates won fair and square. I was proud of you for standing your ground on the word icicle. It was a hard one, but you knew it.

We think we’re on a good path in terms of your health. After an upper and lower endoscopy (which is a big deal for anyone, but especially for an eight-year-old), you were diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. That’s an autoimmune disorder that affects your digestive system, causing inflammation, pain, and frequent bowel movements. While you do suffer from some pain sometimes, the issue that your doctor most wants to address in the short term is the flattening of your growth curve. You haven’t grown much in the last year, despite your good appetite, because your intestines aren’t getting all the nutrition they should be extracting from your food. Your GI team prescribed Humira injections, which you’ll do every other week for the foreseeable future. It will take up to twelve weeks to know if it’s working, but we’re hopeful that by the end of the summer, you’ll be feeling a lot better and ready to do all the fun things a third grader should do.

I’m grateful for a lot of things, including the fact that your case doesn’t seem to be terribly severe. There is another treatment option that involves IV infusions, and that’s not necessarily off the table if the Humira injections don’t work, but the doctor said it’s more often used in cases more severe than yours. Another advantage to Humira is that we can do the injections at home. Infusions are less frequent but require a trip to the clinic, and they’re pretty lengthy, so you’d have to miss at least a half day of school each time. I’m a little nervous about doing your injections, but your dad has offered to be the one who does them most of the time. I want to know how to do it, because I surely will need to at some point, but I’m glad he’s able to take the lead. We’re going to do the first one at the specialty pharmacy under the guidance of the pharmacist, and after that we’ll do them at home. There’s a lot to learn about the drug, in terms of storage and administration, but I’m confident we can handle it. We’re smart and brave, just like you.

I asked if you’ll be needing ice cream after every shot, and you told me that you certainly will. I suppose that’s all right, since weight gain is one of the goals anyway.

So far this summer, you’ve had fun singing with Family Folk Machine at Arts Fest, playing lots of baseball and soccer, playing with friends, and attending the Parks & Rec camp in the park by our house. So far, not very many kids have shown up for that, but you’ve enjoyed having a lot of interaction with the counselors. You tried to teach one of them to play chess, but I’m not sure sure how well it went. You’re confident and ready to jump into the action. I walked over with you the first day, only because I wanted to. You didn’t care whether I was around or not. Tobin also offered to go with you the first time to help you get acclimated, but you didn’t feel that was necessary either. I admire how willing you are to try things and get involved.

Your current favorites: hanging out with the other little brothers who watch the Senior League baseball games, your Vitamin D supplement gummies, steak, playing Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, watching Scooby Doo with Tobin, taking showers (you don’t need help washing, but you like to have company in the bathroom, especially Tobin’s), sleeping shirtless, eating frozen yogurt and ice cream, and reading the Humphrey book series. We’re going to have to find some good audiobooks for our upcoming road trip, because you’ve been in a bit of a Humphrey rut, and it will be refreshing to get some new literature in our lives.

Next month at this time, I’m sure I’ll have lots of stories from our trip, which will include lots of outdoor adventure and time with cousins. I hope you feel good and can have a ton of fun this summer.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Artemis,

Your ninth grade school year is now complete. You had an excellent year, with near-perfect grades, new activities, and a generally pleasant disposition. When I can get you to hang out longer than the time it takes to finish a cream soda at family cocktail hour, I always enjoy chatting with you. You have funny and interesting observations about the world, and you’re teaching me some French. You spend a lot of time holed up in your room, but you seem happy and interested in engaging with us when you do emerge. You recently finished up the driving portion of your Drivers’ Ed class and are making progress through the online portion. While you didn’t pass your instructor’s rigorous final exam, all that really means is that you’ll have to take it again at the DOT when you turn sixteen. That will give you a lot more time to practice. I think the main issue was that you got your permit very shortly before starting the class, and you just don’t have enough driving hours under your (seat)belt yet to feel confident and smooth behind the wheel. Your teacher told us that you made great progress during the class, and in fact the DOT test is easier than his. I was hoping you could avoid doing a driving test around your birthday in January, but that’s the way it goes.

This year’s marching band experience will be more intense than last year’s. They take it easier on freshmen, but sophomores and beyond attend the whole week. It’s a lot of intensive work, much of it outside in the August heat. You say you’re dreading it, and knowing your personal threshold for physical discomfort, that doesn’t surprise me. However, during your last band concert, each senior got to contribute his or her favorite memory from the band years. Many students cited marching band camp memories, so I hope you find the same kind of positivity in it that those kids did. Sometimes great friendships can be forged in challenging times. I think you already know and get along with a lot of band kids, but going through the band experience with them may solidify your bonds.

You’ll definitely need to be fitted for a new band uniform. You’ve grown a lot this year. It wasn’t super evident to me in your first and last day of school photos, but you got invited to go swimming with a friend yesterday with about twenty minutes’ notice, and last year’s swimsuit didn’t fit. You ended up wearing a pair my cover-up swim shorts, which looked slightly goofy, but fit you better than your old suit. I’m glad we noticed that now, because we’ve got a trip coming up that will require swimsuits. This way I had time to order a couple of new pairs in bigger sizes. I’m not sure what your official height is these days. You have an appointment coming up with the orthopedist to check on your scoliosis, and I imagine we’ll see then. I am hopeful that your curve has held steady throughout this period of growth. You are probably close to reaching your full height, by which time we’ll be out of the danger zone for curve change. As long as it’s not significantly worse, you can avoid surgery and maybe even stop wearing your brace or reduce your bracing hours.

I’m very proud of you for wearing your brace as well as you have. It can’t be comfortable, but you don’t ever complain. It’s probably getting too small, too. Maybe you’ll get a new one fitted at your next appointment. Your dad says he had two braces over his bracing period, although that was a long time ago, and his case ended up in surgery. His was a lot more severe than yours, so I’m optimistic that your great bracing habits and the improvements in bracing technology in the past few decades will set you on a straight-spined path.

You went back to your former elementary school to be a judge for the spelling bee. This is the first time since 2020 that the spelling bee has occurred. It was probably a bit strange for you to be sitting on the other side of the judges’ table, but you did a great job. You had the privilege of awarding a victory to Callum’s team. Over in the media center, Tobin’s team also won. It will be very exciting to see our family so prominently displayed on the winners’ plaque. I was really happy that you agreed to be a judge, since it’s an event that was so important to you during your elementary school years. You were fair and accurate, and I hope you come back and do it again next year.

Your current favorites: playing Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, cream soda, late night snacks of Goldfish and Honey Nut Cheerios, sleeping in late, avoiding showers until I pester you into taking one, online chess, pasta, driving me around to do errands, the TV shows Lost, Breaking Bad, and The Simpsons, and changing your socks more often than I expect a person to change socks. I do a lot of sock laundry.

But that’s okay. I’m just glad you’re usually wearing fresh clothes.

Love,

Mom