My dear Tobin,

It’s been a busy and fun month for you. First of all, you finally got to be part of the winning team in your school spelling bee. It’s the first time the bee has been held since pre-pandemic times. When you were in second grade, you received the assignment to write your goal for the year. Your goal was to win the spelling bee. Now, three years later, you and your teammate realized that dream. I was so happy and proud of you. It was tough to watch you, because you and Callum were competing at the same time in different rooms. I was dashing all over the school, trying to glimpse your moments of success and challenge. When you and your partner hear the announcement that you were the winners, your mask couldn’t disguise your excitement. It’s extra special to see your name on the official winners’ plaque. It’s sitting in our house right now, because it was your dad’s job as spelling bee chair to coordinate the engraving, but soon it will be on the wall at school for all to admire.

You have one more year in elementary school, so you’ll get to enjoy the glory as people pass by and see your name. The school system is restructuring a bit, changing to a sixth-seventh-eighth middle school model, but not until after you finish sixth grade in elementary school. It’s special that you’ll get to be part of the last class of sixth graders graduating from elementary school in our district. You’re also happy because you were part of putting a time capsule together that will be opened in 2024, and if you hadn’t been at the same school at that time, you would have missed it.

Your school year went very well. As usual, I have very few concerns about you. You did well academically both in your regular classroom and in ELP. You and your ELP classmates did a trimester-long project about making a business. In your case, it was a restaurant: Luftwaffé, the Waffle Café (my apologies if I spelled that wrong). You planned out all kinds of variables and strategies about how to make a success, and on the last day, you made waffles in class. Fortunately, you have ELP first thing in the morning at school, so I skipped feeding you breakfast that day and let you be a patron at your own restaurant. You got to bring toppings, and you admitted (bragged about) squirting canned whipped topping directly into your mouth.

You remain mostly a happy and fun kid, though you occasionally slip into a bout of moodiness that I guess is to be expected in the tween years. Your favorite thing to do in the world is spend time with your friends, whether you’re riding your bikes around the neighborhood, playing video games, playing sports, or sleeping over. You get the crabbiest when I won’t let you do the things you want to do. We had a miscommunication about a potential sleepover a couple of days before our vacation. It wasn’t great timing anyway because we were about to be stuck in a car and single hotel room together for the first chunk of the trip, and I require some health precautions like masking in common spaces and social distancing at meals after I let you do an unmasked social event like a sleepover. Callum is on immunosuppressant drugs, and we’re working hard to protect him not only from COVID, but from other illnesses and infections as well. So anyway, originally I thought the timing of the potential sleepover was impossible, but it turned out I misunderstood and it was merely inconvenient. Boy, were you mad at me when you found out it was happening at a time when you could have potentially attended.

You’re still a sweet guy, though. You want me around at your games and events, and you were very happy after school got out and I could stay till the end of your baseball games. During the school year, they went so late that I had to leave partway through in order to get Callum showered, fed, teeth brushed and into bed at a reasonable time. Once we got to start staying till the finish, you were always happy to see me in the crowd. You’re developing your skills as a pitcher. You’re still a beginner in that area, but you’re getting better, and you made your goal of striking out a batter. You do funny little celebration dances and chest thumps to acknowledge successes, nothing obnoxious or offensive, but noticeable to those of us watching you closely. It always makes me smile to see you expressing the joy that defines your personality.

Baseball season is over now. Another thing that irritated you was that you had to miss the championship tournament due to our vacation schedule. You knew about that prior to starting baseball, and asked you whether you’d find that so frustrating that you’d rather skip it and just do soccer in the spring. No, you insisted: you still wanted to do baseball. It made for a busy, busy spring, with you and Callum playing both soccer and baseball, but you truly love it. Next year might be a little different, because Callum will change leagues, and you’ll play your games at the same time rather than consecutively. That means you won’t have that extra hour and a half before your game starts to pal around with your friends, eat concession stand food, and play catch. Something tells me you might insist on going early to get some of that done.

Your current favorites: sports, playing with your friends, swimming, torturing me by telling me about dangerous things you did when I wasn’t looking, snacking, being a goofball, introducing Callum to your favorite childhood TV shows like Scooby Doo and Odd Squad, and playing online games with your friends. You used your own money to buy a microphone headset, which makes you look like a very fancy gamer indeed.

You’re full of strong feelings, my dear Tobin, and I’m glad that most of them come out as happiness and enthusiasm. Things are never dull if you’re in the vicinity, and you push my boundaries most days. I hope you look back on your kid years and know that I felt a constant struggle to balance letting you have wild adventures and keeping you safe. I appreciate the way you help me evaluate my motivations and look beyond my fears. You give me worry-wrinkles but a whole lot of laugh lines too. You’re worth every single one.

Love,

Mom