My dearest Tobin,

The other day we were chatting, and you told me about how much you enjoy family traditions. We talked about big-deal traditions, like our every-other-year spring break trips, as well as smaller-stakes traditions like mini-vacations, cocktail hour on Saturdays, and take-out on Sundays. On an even-smaller scale, you cherish regular check-points. Every night before bed, we run through a routine in which you say (really fast, now, because it’s a firmly-ingrained habit) “Good night. I love you so, so much. You’re a great mom. Do you promise never to leave me?” I reply, “Yes,” and then you say, “What do you wish for?” I often have a hard time coming up with ideas for a wish, because I’ve usually just woken up from snoozing in Callum’s bed. Unless there’s something particular on my mind, I mumble about hoping for a good night’s sleep. You always have a list: for good weather for playing outside, for a good school day, for everyone to stay healthy, and for Krysty to get better. Krysty is a young friend from Family Folk Machine. She’s been fighting a serious bone cancer, and I’m thrilled to report that she has finished her chemotherapy and is doing a lot better. She has a titanium femur to replace the one destroyed by cancer, and she’s getting more and more mobility. She even came to Family Folk Machine last week and, in my opinion, looked good. Her mom said she’s doing well and really excited to jump back into her regular activities.

I don’t believe that wishing for Krysty’s healing has a specific or direct impact on her. We did our best to support Krysty and her family emotionally and financially in concrete ways. I do, however, believe that wishing for Krysty’s healing has a specific and direct impact on you, Tobin. It’s normal and expected for kids to be self-centered. Part of human development is going through the stage where your own perspective is the only one you can see. But knowing that you were thinking of another person every single night, wishing the best for her, shows me the kind of heart you have. Exercising compassion like that will help wear high-quality grooves into your thought and behavior patterns.

You’re eleven now, a full-fledged big kid and a fifth-grader. Now that school has started again, you’re getting a routine established and thriving in the company of so many friends. You had a fun summer with lots of hangout time with your best friend Kit and his sister, but it’s also good for you to be surrounded by other people from different backgrounds with different ideas and experiences. You’ll be starting soccer in a week or two. Even though most kids who play soccer have been doing it for years, you dropped it in favor of other sports after you finished the preschool league. But you wanted to do a fall sport, and quite a few of your friends play soccer, so you asked to sign up. I admire your willingness to give something a try even though it will be new to you. You’re brave and quick to find the fun in any situation.

We celebrated your birthday with a family party over the weekend. Of course we continued our family tradition of decorating the chandelier with balloons and a sparkly number eleven. You opened presents, drank a fancy juice and Sprite cocktail, had your favorite stir-fry for dinner, ate cake, and tried out your basketball and video game gifts. You chose a cake that was new to our family: pumpkin bars that were layered into cake form with lots of cream cheese frosting. It was quite a hit. Cake leftovers usually linger around our refrigerator for a long time, but this cake got fully demolished in just a couple of days. I can see that being another family member’s request before your next birthday rolls around.

On Sunday, your true birthday, we skipped our usual takeout and instead ate on the patio at Jimmy Jack’s. That restaurant is a family favorite in part due to their excellent fries, which aren’t quite so excellent after a ride home in the car in a paper bag. The ones we had on Sunday were hot, fresh, crispy, and perfect. You even got a fountain drink, which we normally don’t get, because it was your birthday after all. We’ll celebrate next weekend with some trampoline-jumping and pizza with friends.

Tobin, you are a person who really cares about others. When school lets out, you usually make it to our meeting point before Callum. You watch for him so intently, peeking into the door and announcing his arrival long before I catch a glimpse of him. When he comes out, you give him a big hug. You confessed to me that you were worried about how school would go for him, since he did online school the last two years. You were concerned that he’d be nervous or have trouble making friends. As soon as he comes out, you want to hear everything about his day. I was a little nervous about his transition to school life as well, but it makes me feel so much better knowing you’re there with him. Even if you don’t see each other in the halls much, I’m sure he is happy to know you’re there too.

As we walk away from school every day, kid after kid shouts your name to say goodbye. I know you’re the kind of person who doesn’t have to work hard to make friends, that it comes easily and naturally to you. That makes it all the more meaningful that you show such caring to Callum, brand new in school, and Krysty, with her brand new femur.

Your current favorites: the new Spy School book that hasn’t arrived yet (I pre-ordered it for you as a birthday gift, and you’re awaiting its arrival with great anticipation), wearing the same three grey t-shirts over and over again, laughing and talking and having opinions about everything (especially if your opinion is different from your siblings’), and soaking up all the energy and stimulation the world has to offer. I don’t always understand how you work, Tobin, but I always love and admire you.

You’re a bright light, my effervescent pup. I’m so happy you shine on me.

Love,

Mom