Dear Tobin,

It’s funny to write this when I haven’t seen you in almost a week. You’ve been at Mubby and Skitter’s house, and even though we’ve FaceTimed twice most days, I still don’t feel quite right without you. I know you’re having lots of fun. I’ve enjoyed updates about your adventures fishing, mini-golfing, swimming, trapping raccoons, eating lots of treats, and playing poker. Still, the house is just too quiet without you here. I notice it especially at the dinner table. I feel the quiet and find myself assessing my emotions. Is it quiet because I’m sad about something? No, not really. I’m just accustomed to your joyful banter filling up so much of the sound at dinner that without you, everything feels a few degrees too mellow.

I don’t know if you’ll ever have the experience of being an only child. Maybe after Miles goes to college, Callum will find somewhere else to be for a while and you’ll get to live that life. Really, though, you thrive around other kids. You’re so social and energetic, I don’t know if your dad and I could keep up with you.

This summer you got your first paying job. While some friends of ours were on vacation, you took care of the cats and fish, as well as watering their plants and bringing in the mail. You took your responsibility very seriously, never complaining (except a little bit about the cat litter), and doing a very conscientious job. George the cat is your new favorite animal friend. I’m sure you would have been just as friendly to Party, but she spent most of her time hiding from us.

Your second paying job of the summer is coming up next week, when you will be part of a psychology experiment. Miles did the same experiment several years ago, and you were so jealous. Lucky for you, they want a large number of test subjects, and they’re still accepting new applicants. The test involves being immersed in a virtual reality scenario, a street with cars coming, and you have to decide whether you have time to cross the street safely. You do some of it with me and some of it on your own. I imagine there are other aspects of your (or my?) behavior that they’re studying but don’t specifically explain. You’d probably do it for free, but you were happy to find out there’s a substantial-by-your-standards paycheck involved. I’m not sure how you’re going to spend your summer earnings, but I’m sure you’ll find something.

Despite our Covid precautions, since you’re still unvaccinated, you’ve been able to have a lot of fun this summer. One of your best friends lives in our neighborhood, so you two have been riding bikes and playing in area parks a lot. Sometimes his older sister goes with you and you go a bit farther afield. After your friends treated you to convenience store ice cream, you were excited to return the favor with some of your earnings. Next month will be your birthday, and you’re hoping to have a small, outdoor get-together with a couple of close friends. I’m not sure exactly what you want to do, but I imagine biking and ice cream will be involved.

I know you’re excited to start school in person in the fall, and even though I’m not feeling 100% about the decision, you’re going to go. I hate how I see Covid cases rising among unvaccinated people, thanks to the highly contagious delta variant, and I hate that your school cannot require masks to keep you safer. From what I understand, even after the mask mandate was removed last year, most kids who attended school in person kept wearing masks. I truly hope that remains the case in the fall. My current strategy is to give it a week, and if you don’t have close to full mask-wearing in your classroom, we will look into alternatives. I hate to jerk you around, and I want you to have the full social and developmental experience that school offers. I just also hate to think about the rampant spread of a virus whose long-term consequences we don’t know. I mentioned to your father recently that having three kids is a constant triangle of which kid I’m most worried about, and you and Callum are going to be flip-flopping for first place most of the fall. Some bad news I recently learned is that the vaccine for your age group is probably not going to be approved until winter. I previously thought it would be September or October, so I guess the fretting will have to go on longer than I expected.

While you were gone, your dad and I painted your bedroom, which involved moving almost everything out. We unearthed a lot of treasures, including favorite old books, clothes you’ve outgrown and worn out, and toys covered in a thick layer of dust. I hope the thorough cleaning we did helps with your allergies, too. Until recently, Miles had been sleeping in the top bunk of the bunkbed, and you and Callum had been sharing the double bed in the bottom bunk. Now Miles has a new bed that he’s been happy to sleep in, so you’re the king of the top bunk. Having slept with Callum the last couple of nights while the bunkbed room was dismantled, I can understand why you’re happy with that development. Callum is an extremely wiggly sleeper, and I woke up more than once with his extremities draped over me. I’ve walked in on a similar scene with you two in the morning, so I’m glad you no longer have to deal with that. Actually, we’re going back to Mubby and Skitter’s next week to spend time all together with some more family, and that will probably mean sharing a bed with Callum again. Oops. Sorry.

Your current favorites: pizza, helping out with household projects, riding bikes with your friends, Cheetos (though you’ve decided the flaming hot variety are not worth the stomach aches), books by Stewart Gibbs, online Minecraft dates with a friend cohort you’ve developed this summer, morning bagel runs with your dad, taekwondo in the park, and adding zest to any situation.

I love you so much, Tobin, and I’m counting down the hours until we’re together again.

Love,

Mom