Dear Callum,

Last week, we got your first official school pictures.  As I was telling your dad, I don’t know why I’m so emotionally attached to those.  They’re never great shots.  We have enough good photographers in our sphere that finding an objectively better photo of any one of you kids is an easy thing to do.  But there’s just something about the tradition of the portrait against the mottled blue background that makes me smile.  We had the option of choosing other backgrounds, but I went with the classic.  Besides, you blue-eyed boys of mine look nice against the original one.

When you saw your picture on the mantle next to your brothers’, you said, “I’m a Lucas Mighty Hawk!”  I’m glad you’re proud of your school affiliation, and preschool at Lucas has been going great for you.  Your teachers are about the kindest, warmest people we could hope for.  I was chatting with the dad of one of your classmates, and he mentioned that his son had previously attended a different preschool in town.  He said “I think I’m the only person who doesn’t like [redacted].”  I said to him, “No, you’re not.”  That was a school that has a solid reputation, but I think they’re resting on the laurels of some high-quality former staff.  What I really want in a preschool teacher is someone who truly cherishes little kids, who takes joy in their successes and supports them through challenges.  I want teachers who hug kids who are having a hard time at drop-off or when they get a bonk.  That’s what you have now, and we’re all happy about it.

We’ve had an early start to winter around here, with two significant snowfalls already, before mid-November.  You, of course, think it’s great.  You weren’t too crazy about putting on snow boots for school today, but you really wanted to go outside and play.  You did get some outside time during recess today, and your teacher said you had fun making snow angels.

When I picked you up today, you refused to put on your mittens.  That was pretty dumb, because we always have to wait outside for Tobin for a while, and today he took longer than usual.  Dumber still, you copied Tobin (who was wearing gloves) when he swiped a big swath of snow off a bench.  You howled and screamed about your cold hand, and I admit I didn’t have much sympathy for you, since both your teacher and I had tried to get you to put on your mittens.  In an effort to get you to the car faster, I picked you up to carry you, and your boot fell off.

This snowy weather transition is a learning experience, I guess.  Maybe we’ll get our act together by February.

Halloween was fun, though the weather was awful, and you didn’t last very long for neighborhood trick-or-treating.  Fortunately we had enough other Halloween-related activities that you got plenty of candy and fun without having to be outdoors too much.  For the last three years, you’ve wanted to be a witch, which was easy but kind of boring for me.  This year you told me you wanted to be Thor from the Avengers, so we (I) spent hours making a really cool Thor helmet with attached flowing locks.  You wore that to the first Halloween event, which luckily was the most crowded one, so lots of people got to see it.  By the time the second event came around, you decided you wanted to wear Tobin’s Thanos costume from last year, which I had also worked hard on but was looking a little ratty after a year in our dress-up pile.  For the third, you ditched the homemade costumes altogether and were Superman.  I’m glad you had fun, but next year, I might need you to commit to a single costume.

Most of the time you’ve been sweet and fun lately, though your dad and I have noticed that certain tasks (e.g., washing your hands and brushing your teeth) often result in meltdowns.  You really, really want to do things by yourself, so we let you as much as is reasonable, but we can’t compromise on hand hygiene during cold and flu season.  Similarly, we need to make sure your teeth are clean and you’re not just sucking the bubble gum-flavored toothpaste off your toothbrush.  We noticed this in your brothers, and it’s backed up by evidence, that the second half of a kid’s year (for you, August to January) is a period of disequilibrium.  Your dad calls it a period of discombobulation, which also makes sense.  It’s a stage of development when you’re learning and growing a lot, and your body and brain haven’t quite sorted out how to work together and how to find their place in the family and community.  I was just reading up about it a little, and a website said it’s a bad idea to introduce big changes during periods of equilibrium.

One thing that seems like a medium-sized change to the rest of us but might seem like a big change to you is that we’re going to be temporarily moving.  We’re having renovations done on our house, and some friends are conveniently going to be out of the country during the same time period, so we’re going to borrow their house while ours is a construction zone.  It seems like it will be minimally disruptive in most ways—we won’t have to live amid the noises, smells, and dust of construction, we’ll have a kitchen to use, and you and your brothers will stay at your normal school.  It’s only a few minutes’ drive from our house, so we’ll be able to come back often and check on the progress.  Still, it might throw you off.  This is the only house you’ve ever lived in, and when we get back, it’s going to look rather different.  Fortunately, by that time, you’ll be back onto the equilibrium side of the year, and maybe the transition back will be easy.

You’ll have your fifth birthday in another house, which will be a little strange, but I promise we’ll keep as many traditions in place as we can.  We’ll still have whatever cake you want, whatever dinner you want, and we’ll sing happy birthday into the camera and add “And Mubby more!” to the end of the song.  It will be a good adventure, and we’re definitely going to stick together.  I can’t wait to raise a glass together on our new balcony and celebrate the big things that will have happened.

Love,

Mommy