Dear Tobin,

You woke up earlier than I did this morning.  As usual, the first thing I did after waking up was poke my head into the bunkbed room to make sure you and your brothers are doing okay, and your spot was empty.  My next check was in the big chair in Miles’s room, where you often use the iPad in the morning.  That was empty too.  I was heading toward my third destination (downstairs, in case you were hanging out with your dad) when I heard a voice say, “Hi, Mom,” from the couch.  You were cuddled up, reading Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

As I’ve noted in this space before, you’re a kid who gets obsessed.  Re-reading the Harry Potter series is on your current list of obsessions, along with pizza and camper vans.  I think the interest in camper vans came from a show you watch with your dad about people adventuring all over the world in them.  You’re particularly impressed by their ability to cook in their mini kitchens, which I guess might come in handy after we get back to life with no oven or stove.

We were able to temporarily regain access to our oven and stove while the construction crew was working on a phase of the project that was mostly outdoors, but they’re soon going to be heading back into the house.  Since it would be difficult, uncomfortable (we probably won’t want to run the air conditioning when the house has holes in it), and potentially unsafe to live and work here while that’s happening, we’re going to pack our bags and head to Ames.  We’ll continue to shelter in place there until it’s reasonable to come back to our house.  You kids are really excited about it, and I hope having some time with Mubby and Skitter is refreshing and fun. We won’t be able to do most of the usual things you enjoy doing in Ames—the arcade, the movie theater, ice skating—but at least it will be a change of scenery.  I’m sure you’ll have fun shooting hoops with Skitter and feeding his fish, and Mubby is always up for something exciting.

The end of this school year marks your transition from “little kid” to “big kid” at your school–you’ll use a different playground, you’ll be allowed to walk home alone, and you can ride your bike to school.  There’s a big hill between our house and the school, so we may have to do a couple of trial runs to make sure you can make it up and still be a reasonable student upon arrival.  That’s assuming school starts in August as scheduled.  I went ahead and ordered your school supplies, even though there are no refunds.  I figure the worst case scenario is that you can’t use them right away, and they’ll sit there and wait until school opens.  Our governor doesn’t seem to care much about reducing the number of coronavirus cases in Iowa—she allowed many businesses like gyms, salons, bars, and restaurants to reopen despite the fact that our new case rate and death rate continue to rise.  I dearly hope cases have fallen enough by August that I feel comfortable sending you to school, but what I think and what happens at the state government level might not align.  I don’t know that local school districts have much choice in the matter.  I trust our local elected officials a lot more than I trust the state government on those matters, but it may not be up to them.

You’re a smart kid, but you’re also just a kid, and I don’t know how much I can trust a whole bunch of kids to follow proper social distancing and mask-wearing protocols in school.  It’s all so scary, and the idea of true homeschooling is not unappealing.  I don’t know if I could convince Miles, and it might not be worth the social and developmental cost for him to miss starting junior high with his cohort.  It might work for you and Callum, though.  I’m just thinking as I type, here.  I hope it doesn’t come to that, because I really love being a part of the public school community, and I know the Lucas teachers do a great job.  I also don’t want them to risk their lives and the lives of their loved ones because they’re forced to work in an unsafe environment.  I know from the 12 years of near-constant colds we’ve had that kids are germy, germ-sharing little creatures.

But anyway, we’ve still had some fun this spring and will continue to have fun throughout the summer. You’ve been getting out on your skateboard a lot, we’ve been playing backyard badminton and bocce, and we took part in a cool photo recreation contest sponsored by a local independent theater.  You were supposed to go to animation camp there in June, and I don’t think that’s going to happen.  It’s too bad, because it’s Miles’s all-time favorite camp and you were really excited to be old enough to go.  Overall, you’ve been understanding about the restrictions and not too crabby about it.  We still have a lot of summer in front of us, though.

Your current favorites:  campers, watching videos about campers, designing your dream camper, Beyblades, roughhousing with Callum, Nutter Butters, dance parties, and pizza.  You and your dad have made homemade pizza twice together now, and you are so proud to be in charge.  You like to help him grill when he does that, and you had fun making animal bread with Callum and me.  It was originally supposed to be frog bread, but you made the last-minute decision to make yours crab bread.  Too bad nobody else in this house likes seafood, or it would have made a nice accompaniment to a dinner of crab legs.  You’ve recently expressed interest in trying sushi, so the next time I get that, maybe you’ll have some too.  I don’t know when that will be, since our dining-out options are limited these days, but I’m sure we can work something out.

I love you, my adventure boy, my nearly-third-grader.  You keep life zesty, and social distance life would be a lot more boring without you.

Love,

Mom