My sweet Tobin,

You are ten—TEN—a full decade. You’re such a joy to me and everyone else who knows you, I can hardly imagine how many smiles you’ve brought to the world in your ten years. A friend wrote in a birthday greeting that joy follows you like a shadow. That’s apt. Sometimes I look at old videos of you, and your baby laugh is just the same as your current laugh: deep-seated and bursting.

I’ve only seen you a little bit bummed out lately. You started online school while many of your friends went back in person, and even though you understand that it’s for your own health and safety, you’re a little disappointed. I know it’s hard on you, and I am counting down the days until you can be vaccinated. Miles, who is fully-vaccinated, is going to school in-person. Fortunately you have the breadth of understanding to grasp why that’s a reasonable choice and haven’t expressed any jealousy or hostility to him, but I can understand why you’d feel short-shrifted. I’m still nervous about him bringing home a breakthrough infection to you, which is yet another reason I will be first in line, with your hand and Callum’s held in mine, when emergency approval for the vaccine comes through for your age group. We don’t know when that will be, so all I can do is hope that the FDA is swift in their analysis of Pfizer’s data.

As I re-read the last paragraph, I realize that I should amend it to say that you’re only bummed out by Tobin standards. After a brief period of crabbiness this morning (which was exacerbated by the fact that you fell off the couch when your dad re-woke you up), you were back to your cheerful self. You were excited to help me make stir-fry for dinner, and you are looking forward to starting bass lessons soon. You’ve been having after-school online playdates with your good friend Kit, and you plan to do more outdoor play later this week. You two, along with his sister, had a great summer together. You gave yourself a group nickname (The Screwdrivers), biked all over the neighborhood, ate a lot of ice cream, and discussed topics as wide-ranging as Afghanistan and Minecraft.

A lot of our family decisions lately have been at least partially been for my mental health. I hope it’s not too selfish of me. I struggle with guilt over that sometimes. I absolutely prioritize your needs, but I also have to put on my own face mask before I can help others, you know? The biggest was having you do online school, because I didn’t know if I could handle the constant worry of sending you to school in a mask-optional state. Another concession to my needs was a last-minute mini-vacation. That was a lot less controversial. I’m so glad we took it. I really need a getaway now and then, even a small one, in order to feel happy. Everyone else seemed to enjoy it as well. We rented a small house on a lake in northern Illinois, near the Wisconsin border. We did a lot of kayaking, cocktail hours, and relaxing. We made s’mores, swam, and watched The Simpsons.

We took a day trip to Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, which is a resorty sort of town on a beautiful lake. Just outside of town is an attraction called Safari Lake Geneva, which may have been the biggest hit of the whole trip. It’s a wildlife park in which the animals roam freely and visitors drive slowly through in their cars. We fed the animals a grain mix provided by the park, and you and your brothers all had fun doing it. We saw giraffes, bison, lots of antelope-type creatures, and a zebra. Callum hugged a donkey and chased a pot-bellied pig around the petting zoo area. It was a great way to do something interesting and unusual without having to be around crowds.

When we got home from our trip, it was nearly your birthday, so I scrambled to get a party together for you. You invited the Screwdrivers and another good friend over for outdoor water games, pizza, and cake. It was simple but fun, and you thanked me so many times and so sweetly. I know you crave friend time, so I was glad to give you the chance to spend your birthday with them. I really got the hang of filling tiny water balloons. You really got the hang of bursting them on people. You included Callum very kindly, and I think it was a great success.

Another change this month is that you got glasses. Your prescription isn’t very strong, so you haven’t been wearing them all the time, but you said they really improve how sharply you see distant objects. You wore them kayaking and got to enjoy the scenery across the lake. I think you look super cute in them.

Your current favorites: Chex Mix, both homemade and store-bought; hangouts with the Screwdrivers; listening to audiobooks; helping in any way you can; sleeping in the top bunk; Minecraft; and dancing around with abandon.

You have a strong mind, a strong heart, and a strong character, my precious Tobin. I’m so lucky to be your mom. Thank you for your patience and sacrifices as we work our way through what I hope are our last months of serious abnormality.

Strike that: who wants to be normal? I love you weird. No normal person could have a sparkle like yours.

Love for a hundred more decades,

Mom