Dear Miles,

I didn’t love my sixth-grade experience. However, I do enjoy watching your sixth-grade experience. There’s talk of ‘ships and dirty words and being weird and a growing network of social castes. I’m happy to not be going through the turmoil of figuring out who I am and where I fit but it’s fun to watch you do it.

I think it’s especially fun because you seem so comfortable in who you are, who you are becoming. You are utterly fine with being utterly weird. That’s not even right. You are not just fine, you are psyched about being weird, different, not “normal” – whatever “normal” is.

You try hard at times to engage me in conversation that isn’t focused on video games. And I try my hardest to listen when you talk about video games. You’re good with your brother. You take care of his needs occasionally. It’s these little glimpses into independence that allow me to see how you’ve grown this year.

I’ve reached a point of deep peace with you. I see how good you are. I see how smart you are. I see how you are building social bonds. I see how you take care of yourself and your brother. I see how you take care of my feelings. I see how your logical brain builds a case for the things you want. I see how you positively you have responded to our change in discipline – AKA no punishment, instead ‘let’s talk this out’. I’m kind of in love with our family, with you, with your brother, with your father.

Here is one of my favorite conversations with you recently:

Me: Do you want to work out with me? It’s abs tonight.

You: Why would I want to do that?

Me (pondering for a moment): To attract a sexual partner some day?

You: I think I can do that with my personality.

 

I think you can too, bud, I think you can too.

Happy 12th Birthday!!!

Love,
Mom

 

Dear Will,

Another year. Another birthday. This birthday you turn 8!!!

 You are quite the character. The other night, Miles and I were watching videos of baby Will, and you have always, always been a jokester. Making faces for a laugh. This year, your timing and originality with jokes has really reached a new level. You often have us giggling or guffawing at the dinner table.

Your brilliant brain is used for good and also for evil. You haven’t quite figured out that punishments have gone away in our house. You have the most creative reasons for not doing things. “I’m full. Soft food makes me feel like I’m going to throw up. Can I have ice cream?” Brain. Explodes. From. This. Logic.

You are teetering on the edge of not wanting physical affection anymore. The other night I played a tickling game a lot longer than I wanted to just so I could stay cuddled up with you. Those times of physical closeness are fleeting now, slipping into the past as a new, more independent version of you emerges. But sometimes, if I’m lucky, I get an absent-minded hand holding as we cross a street or a request for a hug before the lights go out.

Dad feels like you’re grown. I feel like you’re still little. I know that you are also ambivalent about your position in the world – wanting both to reap the benefits of being the youngest who can’t really manage anything by himself and to be allowed the privileges of your older brother. You can’t have both a later bedtime and not be able to pour milk in your cereal bowl. Except some days you do get both. Some days, I’m happy to indulge your tendency toward needing help because I want to feel needed. And sometimes we let you stay up late because you are on the brink of being grown.

All I truly know is that I love you dearly, you add a good deal of joy to my life. You are nearly never the bane of my existence – 😊 “Mom said I’m annoying!!!” 😊

Love,

Mom

Dear Miles,

It’s a mystery. Monday through Friday we need to drag your tired bones from your bed at 7am for school. But Saturday and Sunday, you are up at 6:30. Bright eyed. Ready for the day. Video games won’t start for another hour or two, but it seems even the promise of screens stirs your mind to wakefulness. 

And your mind is AWAKE. This year I’ve asked you to work on school skills in the evening hours before bed. You’ve been practicing math that is a level or two ahead of where you are in school. Your brain is so quick and so clever. You solve math problems much faster than I do. 

We had goals for you this year. We needed to start preparing for middle school. You tested into a 6th grade STEM program called Ingenuity and we are so, so proud! We’re working on organization and follow through with school assignments. This is a tough one for you but we’re finding solutions!

You’ve firmly settled on your core friend group: Charlie and Jonah. And lucky you! They’re going be in the same Ingenuity program too!!!

I love that you’re my kid. I love that you want to go jogging with me at the break of dawn. I love that you are passionate (even if that passion is mostly about video games).

Happy birthday kiddo!

Love,

Mom

Dear Will,

You’re Seven! What is seven? Seven is finishing up the first grade. Seven is playing T-ball. Seven is giggle fits at the dinner table. Seven is tailing your brother and avoiding my kisses.

You’re an excellent liar. And I mean that in the best way possible. You tell us stories you think we want to hear instead of the true story. Right now it’s hard to know what is true and what is not true in your world. In the medical field we would call that being a poor historian. I think that this quirk is born out of your deep empathy. You can feel what we feel, you can anticipate what we want to hear, what we want to know - so you project those stories back to us. It's quite a talent.

You can really read this year. And your standardized tests say that you are surpassing your peers in math and reading. You tested into a gifted and advanced learning program at school. But gosh, you cannot focus on completing tasks that you find boring. Trying to get you to write even one sentence is pure torture… for both you and me.

You’re still kind, empathetic, silly, and a pure joy in our family. Your jokes are getting better. Sometimes you have Dad and I chuckling pretty hard. You’re a great physical comedian. Silly walks are a specialty of yours.

I’m excited to see what this next year brings. I want to see more silly walks.

Happy birthday!!

I love you kiddo,

Mom

Dear Miles,

 I think it’s clear that these letters are as much about me evolving in my role as your mother as they are about you developing into a truer version of yourself. 

On the eve of the eve of your birthday this year you ran away.  Not because you were sad or because you were scared or angry. Not because you wanted to leave your family. Not because we had a fight.

You ran away because you had an impulse to. Because you had an urge to. Because you wanted to see your best friend Charlie. Because you knew how to get to his house on your own. Because you wanted to see if you could do it. By yourself. 

I realized I lost you about 10 minutes after you snuck away. I knew where you went because you told me you wanted to do it earlier in the evening. We had reviewed the outcomes of you slipping away unannounced - the distress it would cause me, the consequences you would face, the possibilities of unforeseen danger.

As I drove up to your best friend’s house, my phone rang - it was his mother letting me know that you were there. I felt embarrassed and upset. And relieved. 

You were surprised that I was mad because I wasn’t yelling. And you learned that choices have consequences. This choices/consequences lesson is a prominent one in our lives right now.

But, if I’m honest, in addition to feeling embarrassment and distress, I’m also impressed by your initiative and independence. We wanted to raise a kid who questioned rules. We wanted a kid who trusts himself. We wanted a kid who is incessantly curious about the world, who looks for evidence, who pushes boundaries. You do those things. Sometimes you could make better choices. But also, sometimes I could make better choices too.

I find it challenging to parent you but I find it effortless to love you. 

To many more years of choices and their consequences (good and bad)! Happy 10th birthday!

Love, Mom

Dear Will,

 Most mornings I can count on your little feet padding up to my bed. Your messy hair appears next to me, your body clamoring over the sheets, your knees and head finding their way into my soft spots. As much as I love sleep, I love these moments more. And often, I’m already awake, waiting for your body to join mine in the early morning light. 

We giggle and play games on my phone. We cuddle and watch tiktok. You share your latest thoughts about the stuffy that accompanied you on your journey from one set of sheets to another. We make plans for the day. Mostly that involves you asking me to play and me saying I need to work, or garden, or cook. But these early morning moments are ours, yours and mine alone.

It was back to school this year, kindergarten, repeatedly interrupted by Covid quarantines. You are reading. You are writing. You idolize your brother. You love this family your dad and I have built. You are bright and funny and sweet and cuddly. 

You turn 6 today. I wonder if I’ll have 6 more years of this friendship we’ve built. I wonder what we’ll laugh about when you’re 12. I hope you still find me, wherever I am in the house, to share your morning thoughts and your morning breath, your sparkly eyes and your messy hair. 

I love you dearly my sweet 6 year old.

Love, Mom

Dear Miles,

 After you were born, your eyes started to change colors, like all babies' eyes do. Babies generally start out with dark irises and over time, they evolve to brown or azure or green. Your eyes are hazel, like mine. Eye color is not the only thing we share. This year, you've started doing puzzles in a way that reminds me of myself - with a deep concentration and singularity of focus. I have been impressed with your puzzle skills since you were small. But this year, I see new maturity in you - completing 1000 piece puzzles on your own is just one manifestation of this maturity.

If puzzling is a singular focus, video games are an obsession. We've heard about Hollow Knight and all its characters, bosses, areas to explore, and end goals for well over a year. A few days ago, we watched as you beat the game! Dad, as the video game playing expert in our house, went on about how your skills with video games have matured in the last year. I also hope you continue to discover your own sense of grit in the try and fail cycles that are inevitable in conquering a game and finding your way in life.

In this year, this pandemic, home-schooled, limited socialization, stuck-at-home year, you've actually done just fine. You are excelling in academics, in no small part to the dedication your father has to your virtual schooling. I think you have been able to do so well during this strange year in part due to your blooming maturity, but also because you are a person who let's things roll. Although you do get upset, you don't hold a grudge. You bounce back quickly, you rejoin the game, you don't carry the sadness or frustration from the previous squabble forward through your day. I hope this ability sticks with you through your life. What heights can you reach if you're not held back by life's little failures and tumults!

You've found a fan in your little brother Will. He watches you with adoration in his eyes. He wants to follow you, play with you, and be like you. You've been a great friend and play mate to him in this year of forced proximity. I'm so glad you have each other and I will do all that I can to foster your friendship. 

Your social skills are just starting to mature as well. You're just now waking up to the world of other people's experiences. I'm watching as you open those hazel eyes to the idea that others' world views may not be the same as your own. I watched you get surprisingly sentimental about our move from Lorraine to Belvedere this year. Your emotional/social brain is really growing this year.

I love you, Miles, my first born. I love your frenetic energy, your intensity of focus, your wide eyed fascination with the complexities of this world. I love that you hear color and that you want to learn about racism as much as you want to learn about the GI system. 

I hope your hazel eyes stay open, that you remain singularly focused on things that bring you joy, and that you stay as weird and wonderful as you are now.

Happy Ninth Birthday!

Love, Mom.