Dear Miles,

“Hey, Mom.”

“Yes?”

“Look at the time.”

“It’s 3:45.”

“Yeah.  I thought you’d like that.”

Recently we’ve discovered something we both enjoy:  when interesting numeric patterns come up on clocks or other digital readouts.  I told you a while ago about how I like it when the clock says 12:51, because, in the blocky display of my treadmill and most of the digital clocks around here, it’s a mirror image of itself.  You said you like that kind of thing too, and now we’ve been pointing out consecutive numbers, numeric palindromes, and other digital quirks to each other.  You  may look like your dad, but I think we have a lot of brain overlap.

At your school, the whole month of March is dedicated to a variety of reading activities.  One of them was “mystery reader,” a time when a visitor is supposed to come to your class to read aloud.  You asked your teacher who your mystery reader was going to be, and she said she didn’t have anyone lined up.  You volunteered, and you read an original story to your classmates.  You were bursting with excitement about it and told me immediately when you got home from school that day.  Another March reading activity was to decorate your classroom door in the style of a book cover.  Your class had already picked a book, but after you were mystery reader, they decided to do the other side of the door in the style of your story.  You said the idea even came from a kid you aren’t close friends with, which was extra proof that your story was a big hit.

School isn’t going 100% perfectly.  You still have a few areas where you struggle, mostly in the mental and physical organization areas.  You still make more careless mistakes on your math tests than seems appropriate, considering you seem to understand the material.  A couple of days ago, you brought home a stack of papers dating back months.  It’s a good thing I’m active on the PTO, because if I were counting on you to get information home, we’d miss two-thirds of school events.

You definitely have the capacity for great mental organization.  For the third year running, you won the team spelling bee.  You’re a naturally good speller, but you also studied very hard.  Equally importantly, you didn’t buckle under pressure.  The spelling bee has both written and oral rounds, and when it was your turn to spell a word out loud, you spoke clearly and confidently.

You’re such an interesting pile of contradictions, Miles.  You’re shy in social situations but ace the spelling bee and are eager to volunteer to read in front of your class.  You refuse to try new foods but are going out for baseball and running club again, despite not being a naturally gifted athlete.  You’re oblivious to the hurtful way you can sometimes speak to Tobin, but you’re very sensitive to any perceived criticism from your dad.  You hate it when he wants to go over your math tests with you.

I imagine this is a normal manifestation of growing up and wanting more independence, but if we gave you all the independence you wanted, you’d never make it to school on time.  I will never understand how you can take as long as you do to brush your teeth and comb your hair (although, to be fair, your hair does require a lot of work).

You thoroughly enjoyed our biennial trip to Marathon Key.  The weather was beautiful almost the whole time, warm at the beginning and end with a cool dip in the middle.  Compared to the cold snap we’ve been having here at home (it’s 28F right now, coming into the second week of April), seventy degrees doesn’t sound so cool, but it was a bit chilly for the beach.  Fortunately, our condo’s pool was heated, so you still got plenty of water time.  You swam with utter confidence.  We could barely drag you out of the pool to eat (though you managed to enjoy meals at our favorite restaurants and grill-outs on the beach).  There weren’t a lot of kids around our condo that week, but you did make friends with a middle-aged woman who hung out by the pool a lot.  She threw baby carrots into the pool and you dived for them.  You kept it up for what seemed like hours (fortunately with good sun protection, because I don’t think you got burned at all).  You didn’t eat any of them.  It reminded me of when you were a little guy, freakishly focused and able to keep on task, if it was a task that interested you.

I’ve really enjoyed watching your confidence grow in so many areas.  It’s hard to believe that your fourth-grade year is winding down.  At least our school district runs elementary school through sixth grade, so I don’t need to start getting wound up about junior high quite yet.  Still, I know it won’t be long before I’m using this space to fret about that.  You don’t seem to have the self-awareness (yet) that leads to the crushing self-consciousness of the early teen years, and maybe your sometimes obliviousness will serve you well in that area.  I hope you can continue to find happiness and satisfaction from things like drawing comics, carrot retrieval, and finding patterns in digital displays.  Just remember that big, unpredictable things like the ocean can be pretty wonderful too.

I think you’re pretty wonderful.

Love,

Mom

P.S. Check out how many months old you are.  Cool, huh?