Dear Callum,

You’ve been such a little sweetheart lately.  You’ve had some tantrumy moments, like the other night while I was working on dinner and you decided that you, not I, truly needed the meat thermometer.  You also get a little testy when someone tries to help you wash your hands, which can be an issue because you’re a lot better at applying soap than rinsing it off.  These are unusual moments, though.  Mostly you’ve been sunny and affectionate and adorable.

I guess it wasn’t so adorable when you stuck two DVDs into the optical drive.  But a credit card and some sticky tape solved that problem.

You’ve been super attached to your stuffed Curious George lately.  Neither of your brothers ever had a true comfort object, and I’m not completely sure that’s what George is to you.  I think maybe it’s more that you’ve entered into a stage of a lot of imaginary play, and it’s fun for you to have George as a pretend playmate.  The other day I noticed that you’d left him downstairs, so I brought him up to you.  I said, “It’s your Georgie!” as I handed him to you.  You gave him a big hug, and then, in your squeaky George voice, you said, “It’s my Callie!”

I’ve also overheard some funny conversations you’ve created between your toys.  A few days ago, one action figure said to the other, “What are you doing at my doctor’s appointment?”  Later, one said, “I have fourteen work to do on my computer.”

You’ve been joining on the weekly trips to Family Folk Machine rehearsals most weekends.  You don’t usually sing, but you like to be where the action is.  It might be hard to keep you in the audience come performance time.   I don’t think you have quite the level of self-control required to be a true member just yet, but odds are that you’ll end up in the kids’ section, especially if you can play ukulele.

We’ve got our big Florida Keys trip coming up.  While this is actually your second time, you were only a little over a year old last time, so you probably don’t remember it.  I can’t wait to see your face when you see the ocean for the first time in your conscious experience.  We’ve talked about it (and you told me you were going to get nude there, so maybe you think it’s like a bathtub), but the ocean is one of those things you can’t really understand until you’ve seen it for yourself.

Overall, you’re developing into a brave, confident (sometimes overconfident) person.  Some of this might come from being the littlest brother—you’ve had plenty of exposure to people whom you view as your contemporaries doing things that you’d love to do.  You’ve had babysitters a couple of times lately, and it’s been no big deal at all.  That also probably has to do with your brothers.  It’s no problem hanging out with a sitter if your two best friends are with you.

Photo by Gary Clarke

Two nights ago you did something that I don’t think either of your brothers have ever done unless they were sick.  I was getting washed up and finishing my pre-bedtime home tasks, and you tucked yourself in, cuddled up to George, and fell asleep.  You entirely skipped our stories and hugs bedtime ritual.  You also skipped brushing your teeth, but I was so excited to have an extra half hour of time to myself that I let it slide that once.  You had a great night’s sleep, and the next morning, you toddled out in your sleep-drunk way and found your place in my lap on the couch.  Mornings with you are wonderful, and I’m so glad I get to spend time every day with your smiley little face.

Your current favorites:  playing outside, doing things all by yourself, Peppa Pig, Caillou, pbskids.org games, our Curious George storybooks, Play-Doh, running errands with me, and your Potty Power video (no actual correspondence to potty use for the time being).

We’re going to have a great time on our trip, and I hope you do actually get to be nude in the ocean a little.  That’s a pleasure that’s reserved for the under-five set (at least at the beach where we’re going), and you have a decent chance of remembering it this time.

I love you so much, my little pup.

Love,

Mommy