Dear Tobin,

As usual, you spent this month brimming with energy and enthusiasm. You haven’t been super excited about school lately—your regular teacher is out on maternity leave, and I think your long-term sub isn’t quite living up to the standards the regular teacher set. She should be back this spring, and I know you’re looking forward to that. You love babies, and I know you’re going to be excited to see pictures of her newborn and hear about his developments. While you’re not thrilled about the day-to-day school experience, you’re certainly invested in the sixth-grade social scene. Almost every day after school you play at a friend’s house, and you’re invited to sleepovers many weekends. It can be hard to keep track of your social calendar, but it’s helped that you have an Apple watch now, so at least I can find your location and text you if we need to make adjustments to the plan.

Your money-making schemes have yielded some good dividends lately. You’ve been doing a multi-part study about the genetics of giftedness. You had to spit into a tube to provide a DNA sample, then you did some interactive activities and had biometric data taken, and then you took an IQ test. The staffmember who administered the IQ test mentioned that you may or may not be eligible for the final part of the study, which is an MRI. She said it sounded cool, because you get a 3D printout of your brain when it’s all done. I later received a communication from the research lab stating that people were only eligible for the MRI part of the study if they were academically gift and also had a diagnosis of autism or ADHD.

I’ve had my suspicions throughout the years that you may have a touch of the ADHD, but it was never disruptive enough that I sought out any kind of diagnosis or treatment. I was never sure (and am still not sure) if your inability to sit in a chair through an entire meal is outside the normal range for a kid; all I have for comparison are your siblings, both of whom are on the sedate side. Regardless, you’ve never had a problem achieving good grades in school, and your teachers have never complained about your behavior. You get along well with others, so I figured as long as you weren’t experiencing any negative outcomes, there was no need to pathologize you.

In any case, it didn’t matter, because a member of the research team called me up and said that you scored so high on the verbal portion of the IQ test, they want to do the MRI on you. I clarified that you do NOT have an ADHD or autism diagnosis, and she double-checked with her supervisor. She was right the first time: they want to take a look into that weird and wonderful brain of yours.

I expressed some concern about whether you’d be able to lie still in an MRI machine for that long, and she assured me that even if you can’t complete the full session, they can still use whatever information they can get and it shouldn’t dissuade us from doing it. I imagine if their usual audience is kids who definitely have ADHD or autism, they’re prepared to handle a variety of tolerance levels. I’ve had MRIs several times, and for me the worst part is the loud noise. You have no qualms about loud noise, so you may do just fine. The best part from your perspective is that you get $95. Despite being a person with no expenses, you really love earning and saving money, and being a lab rat is an interesting way to do that.

You had your first band concert as a member of the advanced band. It’s amazing how much musical growth happens in one year of band lessons. Attending those concerts reaffirms my belief that there is no more selfless a human being than an elementary school band teacher. You and Artemis both like the band teacher at your school, and I think she has a good sense of humor. That is probably a requirement for the position.

At dinner the evening of your concert, you mentioned that you had asked to introduce the song “Samba la Bamba,” but the teacher had only vaguely acknowledged your request. From attending previous concerts, it seemed to me that the kids who did introductions had something fairly lengthy prepared, probably with the teacher’s input, so I wasn’t really expecting you to do the introduction.

When “Samba la Bamba” came up in the program, you walked to the microphone and gave a very eloquent introduction to the song. Then, at the end, you said “also known as SAMba la BAMba,” in a crazy accent that cannot easily be rendered in text but reminded me of Yosemite Sam. I’ve watched the video of it about a hundred times, and quite a few parents laughed about it with me after the concert. You’re a nut and half, Tobin.

Your current favorites: food from Panda Express, playing online games with your friends, sleepovers, the Percy Jackson book series by Rick Riordan, Flamin’ Hot Funyuns, cookies and milk, maintaining family traditions, wearing Adidas sweatpants and hoodie, and playing indoor soccer with Callum. You’re a great brother, a great son, a great friend, and a joy to have around. I don’t know exactly what I expect to see when we get the 3D printout of your brain, but I have a feeling it’s going to be spectacular.

Love,

Mom