Dear Matteo, 108 Months Old

Dear Matteo,

Happy 9th birthday! Somehow, you're already halfway to adulthood.

Instead of a Happy Birthday sing-along, let's put on a Michael Jackson track.

"Ah-hee-hee!" has been jumping out of you throughout these first days of being nine. It's like you caught a Michael Jackson cold, but instead of a surprise sneeze, you belt out a vintage MJ vocal flourish. I get it. I was raised on the Off the Wall album, which Grandma Vicki claims put me to sleep many nights with headphones on. Now that I think about it, maybe that was the beginning of my hearing loss?

Speaking of things that haven't aged well, Michael Jackson's legacy has gotten... complicated. But if you separate the art from the artist, it's hard to deny the music. The songs have once again proven timeless now that they're appealing to you.

Some of your favorites are "Human Nature," "Man in the Mirror," and, of course, "Billie Jean." I can still manage a passable moonwalk, and I've taught you and Eliza the mechanics. You two now practice regularly on the hardwood floors with your socks on.

In addition to catching that Michael Jackson cold, you also came down with a bad attitude cold (not to be confused with the song Bad). The pre-adolescent eye rolls and backtalk seemed to appear out of nowhere. You've been talking back a little more and not listening to Mom and me the first time.

We eventually decided that your new summertime habit of waking up and heading straight to the TV probably wasn't helping. So we introduced a new morning routine. Before any screens or playing, you and Eliza need to get yourselves ready, make breakfast, and write a short paragraph of reflection to start the day.

On the very first day, you dug in your heels. You absolutely refused to do the writing exercise, which meant no fun activities. I was gone for most of the day at work, so Mom had to carry the burden of this standoff herself, which wasn't fair to her.

You called me on my drive home to air your grievances, including your complaint that "Mom won't let me touch the Earth." I reminded you that you'd spent hours avoiding a writing exercise that should only take a few minutes. You may not love writing, but you're pretty good at math, so run the numbers. A few minutes of writing would exercise your brain, improve your penmanship (which definitely needs the practice), and, most importantly, show respect to Mom and me while giving you a better start to your day.

I felt pretty good when we hung up. I had even suggested that if you were frustrated, you could simply write about how you felt about the assignment itself.

When I walked through the front door, Mom gave me a look that said, "Do you realize what you've done?"

"I think I really got through to Matteo," I replied confidently.

She silently handed me the paper you had written.

You had completed the assignment... but with a shocking number of A-word and F-word references sprinkled throughout. I laughed so hard I felt like I was watching my own family sitcom.

I walked upstairs holding the paper and asked what had happened.

"You said I could use cuss words, Dad," you answered.

Now, while my hearing isn't what it used to be, I'm fairly certain I never said anything of the sort. You had taken some significant artistic liberties.

To your credit, you did revise the paper. You crossed out every cuss word with the thinnest possible line—leaving each one perfectly legible—and replaced them with the word "stupid."

That revised masterpiece is now worthy of our refrigerator and has officially earned its place in the family history books.

So naughty. So funny.

Thankfully, Mom and I were right about the new morning routine. Since we started it, your attitude has been much better. You now write thoughtful responses to prompts like, "What's your favorite place to visit?" You finish them quickly, head outside to finally touch the Earth, and spend the rest of the day playing, occasionally belting out an enthusiastic "Ah-hee-hee!" that we can hear from inside our calm-once-again house.

It's good to have your singing self back.

This is nine.

Love,
Dad

Dear Eliza, 128 Months Old

It’s the last day of 4th grade! (As always, I’m writing this letter a little later than the 10th of the month.)

Next year, you’ll be at the top of the elementary school food chain. I can tell you’re excited, and you’re ready in so many ways. You’ve come into your own style with how you wear your hair, your choice of clothes, manicured nails, occasional makeup, and even freckle stickers. You continue to grow in confidence through your art, both dance and drawing.

You wrapped up your spring dance session with a recital, performing in four numbers. You had some anxiety going into the first night’s performance, but you shook it off and nailed the choreography despite having to catch up after our European vacation. Afterward, you told us you wanted to add another class so you could perform in five dances at the next recital.

In your visual art, you started using an app that teaches more advanced techniques like realistic drawing and shading. You’ve flown through the curriculum, and as I write this, I’m looking at a detailed turtle you drew a few weeks ago that now hangs next to my desk.

Since we’re talking about progress at the end of a school year, I took a look at your most recent test scores. You’re flying high in both reading and writing—typically your strongest subjects—as well as math. Those scores aren’t everything, but it’s reassuring to know you’re right where you need to be heading into the long summer break.

Before school ended, you got a visit from your cousin Abby and her friends Lia and Ella, who recently graduated from Ball State. Schools in Indiana start and finish earlier than they do here. Your mom was thrilled to host them. We travel to Indiana regularly, but we don’t get many visitors from there, so it was a treat. It’s fun to imagine a wave of high school and college graduates from our family and friend group making their way west for graduation trips. Hopefully, this is just the beginning.

You remind us of Abby in many ways. You’re both a little quiet, highly creative, and you share similar expressions and laughs. All good things. Interestingly, Abby turned out to be the loudest of her friend group, which surprised me. The girls spent some time with us, but they also explored Seattle for a day and spent a couple of nights at the Harstine Island cabin. They were especially interested in thrift shopping and returned home with an extra suitcase full of finds.

I think Abby mostly wanted to spend time with your mom, and I’m glad you got the chance to hang out with the older girls, too. They thought you were incredibly cool—which, of course, you are.

Now that our Indiana visitors have come and gone, we’re looking ahead to a fun summer with lots of time at Harstine. You’ve built a wonderful and growing group of friends out there, and my guess is that you’ll spend much of the summer off on adventures with them, checking in mainly at mealtimes. That’s exactly the way your mom and I hoped it would be. We’re here for the encouragement, the occasional ride somewhere, and the free meals.

Love,

Dad

Dear Matteo, 107 Months Old

I left off your last letter with our trip to Italy, and I finished documenting that adventure through Greece in Eliza’s letter.

What I forgot to commend you on was your fast and enthusiastic attempt at learning the Italian language. As the saying goes, you speak your mother’s tongue, so realistically you face big odds in learning Italian with a Midwestern Mom unless you get some real immersion. Despite that, you took on Duolingo and quickly picked up a surprising number of words. Of course, Duolingo was really just more iPad time that you wanted, but I was willing to accept that compromise. I was impressed by how quickly you and Eliza learned the basics, and it reinforced a common parenting mistake your Mom and I made—not getting you into a second language earlier. At your age, you are true sponges for knowledge.

There are two language moments from the trip that I’ll never forget and need to memorialize here. First, Duolingo uses character names for practice, and one of them is Laura, which you accurately and emphatically pronounced as “Laou-ura,” complete with a slight tongue roll. It was endlessly entertaining to hear out loud leading up to and during the trip as you practiced. Second, while we were in Italy, you discovered that you really liked gnocchi but, for some reason, could never remember the name of that potato-based pasta. At the same time, you constantly saw and heard the name Peroni because, well, beer. At one restaurant along the way, it was your turn to order, and you confidently told the waiter that you wanted a Peroni. You should have seen the look on his face. We quickly realized that you meant gnocchi, but the reaction from both our table and the waiter was already in motion. I know you felt a little embarrassed—and even refused to order food for the rest of the trip—but it was simply too funny.

A couple of other memories from that trip stand out to me now that some time has passed. Looking back at your last letter, I covered what we did but not as much of the moments in between.

You have a knack for “living like a local” wherever we travel, and one example was fetching water in Rome. Although I’m sure the tap water from our apartment sink was perfectly safe to drink, we took advantage of the public fountains near our apartment to refill our bottles. You casually volunteered to head down the four flights of stairs, through two locked doors, and out onto a busy street where tiny cars and Vespas zipped by just feet away. I accompanied you each time for safety and to make sure you could manage the keys and doors, but after the first day you probably could have done it yourself. You seemed just as comfortable in that exotic urban environment as you are in our quiet suburban cul-de-sac. It was fun to watch.

Another memory from that trip was how much time you spent in the water. I worried that, in May, both the sea and the unheated pool at our villa in Crete would be too cold. You were completely unbothered. At our first apartment in Agia Pelagia, you practically sprinted into the Mediterranean. Eliza wasn’t far behind. You ran up and down the beach in ankle-deep water, moving effortlessly between the sand and the rocky sea shelves. Your Mom and I enjoyed the rare luxury of parenting from a distance, sipping Greek wine and raki while you played for hours. We occasionally had to break up a disagreement between you and Eliza over something trivial, but that was the extent of it. Later, at our villa in Maza, the pool was still too cold to stay in for very long, but that didn’t stop you from repeatedly jumping in and out. You warmed up in the second-floor hot tub, sunbathed with our adopted vacation cat, Lila, and spent a little time gaming on the PS5—a true vacation treat.

Speaking of Lila, whom you famously announced at a group dinner was pregnant, cats were another major theme of this vacation. You visited the cat sanctuary in Rome, met some of the world’s tiniest kittens at a cat adoption center in downtown Heraklion, and encountered feral cats at seemingly every restaurant in Greece. You certainly got your fill of cat time. More than once, we had to remind you that we needed to return home, where your two official pet cats were patiently waiting for you. Sure enough, as soon as we got home, you resumed your favorite hobby of tracking them down for mandatory snuggles.

As I think back on this trip, what stands out most is not the places we visited but the person you are becoming. Whether you are learning a new language, navigating a city street, diving into cold water without hesitation, or making friends with every cat you encounter, you approach the world with curiosity and confidence. You are becoming more independent every year, but what I love most is that you still bring the same joy, humor, and enthusiasm(!) wherever you go. Keep that sense of adventure for me and for the “Laou-uras” in your life ahead.

Love,
Dad

Dear Eliza, 127 Months Old

We wrapped up our big trip to Italy and Greece! Somehow, we’re adjusting to our home time zone just fine and avoiding jet lag. That said, we all woke up at 5 a.m. this morning, so we’re still slightly off tempo.

I left off your brother’s letter with the highlights from Rome, so I’ll pick up yours with the rest of the trip.

I was most excited to visit Naples, where your Bisnonno and Bisnonna are from, though I approached it with a little hesitation. The city is notoriously loud, dense, and dirty — an acquired taste. When Uncle Sergio and Riley visited last year, their experience was “just OK,” and Riley vowed not to return anytime soon.

Our visit, however, ended up being truly wonderful. We stayed in Chiaia, west of the city center in a more upscale part of town. Our Airbnb was a charming top-floor apartment with a jaw-dropping terrace offering 180-degree views of the city and the Bay of Naples. We walked downhill across an unkempt greenbelt to Mappatella Beach. The beach itself wasn’t especially clean — there was quite a bit of litter — but the sun was out and so were the people. We weren’t among tourists; we were surrounded by Napolitani.

I spent much of our beach time scanning Google Maps for top pizza recommendations. We were in the city where pizza was born, which somehow raised the stakes for every trattoria decision. We ended up at a small local restaurant near our apartment that served a great margherita pizza and traditional pasta e fagioli. Yum. What we didn’t know at the time was that the restaurant directly across the street would serve the best meal we had on the entire trip. More on that later.

The next day, we explored the city, visiting the famous and incredibly busy Quartieri Spagnoli (Spanish Quarter) and Centro Storico (Historic Center). I had visited these places nearly 20 years ago while backpacking solo through Europe. I remembered an unreal energy pulsing through the city from early evening deep into the late-night hours. I also remembered the city being fairly dirty — especially the sidewalks. I stepped in dog poop back then. Hard to forget that.

This time, Naples seemed much cleaner. It was still rough around the edges compared to most major European cities, but impressive considering the density — nearly 20,000 people living within a single square mile.

Fortunately, Zio Vince and Aunt Carla happened to be in Naples at the same time, wrapping up one of their guided tours through Rome, Naples, and Sorrento. Vince has stayed closely connected with our extended family and arranged time for us to meet relatives from both the Perrotta (Bisnonna) and Mottola (Bisnonno) sides of the family.

I was a little nervous before our first family gathering because of the language barrier, but mostly excited to meet the Perrotta side. My second cousin Alessandro met us and brought us to the home of his mother, Patrizia — Nonno’s cousin — for a home-cooked meal. We also met her husband, Agostino; their daughter and my second cousin, Ornella, along with her husband Hugo, who was especially talkative and reminded me a lot of Sergio personality-wise; Alessandro’s wife, Isabella; and Nonno’s other cousins, Giuliana and Rino.

You and Matteo had a blast playing with Dario, Ornella and Hugo’s toddler, and with Matilde, Alessandro and Isabella’s new daughter. As you know, Matilde was almost your name too. We just couldn’t get over how Americans would probably call you “Matilda,” so Eliza it was. You spent much of the evening drawing portraits of everyone, which became a huge hit.

Zio Vince helped translate much of the conversation, which wandered through politics and economics in the United States. Probably boring to you, but fascinating to me — especially how curious and interconnected Italians feel with the U.S.

The food was incredible: fried chicken, eggplant, artichokes, pickled vegetables, fresh mozzarella, and traditional savory baked dishes. Courses came out one after another, separated by long stretches of conversation, making dinner last for hours. Your mom eventually noticed that you and Matteo were practically falling asleep at the table, and it still took another hour for us to leave.

The next day, we toured Pompeii. Before the tour even started, the trip leader messaged me because she was curious about my last name — hers was Paola Mottola, the feminine version of my name! I joked that I had met my other half.

Pompeii was much larger than I anticipated — a vast and ancient city that truly demonstrated how advanced Roman civilization was. A good portion of our tour included the red-light district, complete with phallic imagery and explicit artwork. I didn’t expect to explain prostitution to you and Matteo while walking through Pompeii, but that’s exactly what happened. I was grateful we’d already had “the talk” a few months earlier because our guide’s commentary definitely got awkward at times.

After the tour, we stopped at one of Naples’ most famous pizzerias, Da Michele, where we demolished a few large pizzas.

After all that touring, we kept our final full day in Naples low-key. We returned to the beach, which was somehow cleaner this time, and later ate what may have been the best meal of the trip at Gastronomica Arfé. Oh Lord. The pasta and presentation were truly beautiful. I remember looking up at the blue sky and thanking God for that meal. I discovered a pasta called paccheri there that may have changed my life.

Once we walked off lunch and I emotionally recovered from the experience, we met up with Zio Vince and Aunt Carla for one final family dinner. They introduced us to Nonno’s cousin Ida and her husband Ninni at Umberto, the restaurant where Nonno apparently spent a lot of time learning pizza-making and playing cards. Ida had light-colored eyes just like mine! Apparently I’m not the only one.

Ida was fairly quiet, but Ninni spoke good English. We talked about boating, politics, and economics once again.

This is already a long letter, but it was a long trip, and I still have to write about Crete.

I somehow hadn’t been back to the island in 20 years, since I first visited Zia Pam there with my parents and siblings. That trip happened just a couple of years before I met your mom, and I even included some photos from Greece in my old Match.com profile. The story goes that your mom saw those photos and assumed she’d get to visit Greece with me early in our relationship. She only had to wait 17 years and have two children first for that trip to finally happen. Thanks for your patience, Amanda!

We spent the first few nights north of Heraklion, where Zia Pam lives, in a small beach community called Agia Pelagia. After all the walking we did in Italy, I wanted us to slow down and enjoy some time by the water. The spot was perfect. Our apartment sat above a family restaurant along a strip of little places to eat and drink. The beach was small but incredibly clean, with crystal-clear water and a shallow shelf you could walk far out on. You and Matteo immediately jumped into the water while your mom and I alternated between swimming and sunbathing.

Eventually, we caught up with Pam and her husband Emmanuel at their home — the same place where I stayed two decades ago in the chalet overlooking the olive orchard. We also reunited with the group we’d spend the remainder of the trip with: Sergio, Riley, Riley’s parents Ken and Holly, and Sergio’s childhood friend Mark and his wife Maura, who live in Cyprus.

After visiting Pam’s house, we went out for gyros and walked around downtown Heraklion, which was much nicer than I remembered, with tiled promenades, charming restaurants, and even larger retailers like Zara.

We spent the next day at the beach before meeting the group again for a trip to Avdou, a small mountain town, and the major event of the trip: Sergio and Riley’s engagement.

This had been in the works for months, as these things usually are. Greece is an especially meaningful place for Uncle Sergio, so I knew the proposal mattered a lot to him. Riley’s brain tumor and surgery — deserving of their own story entirely — nearly derailed the whole trip, but thankfully she recovered well and everything went according to plan.

Sergio proposed at a beautiful restaurant, Riley was completely surprised, and we all got to witness the special moment together. Thankfully, I didn’t ruin the real-time photos.

You spent much of the remainder of the trip designing wedding invitations for them in your signature drawing style on your iPad.

The next morning, we left for Maza, a tiny village in western Crete where I had booked a villa for the rest of our stay. Before leaving Heraklion, we made one final stop at a large market to stock up on produce and meet up with Sergio, Riley, Mark, and Maura before heading west.

The drive was stunning and mountainous. Crete is surprisingly rugged, with dramatic hillsides and coastline. I was especially surprised to see snow on some of the mountaintops.

The villa ended up being my big Airbnb gamble of the trip, and thankfully it paid off. The place was spacious, clean, and modern, complete with a hot tub, pool, and a PS5 that your brother thoroughly enjoyed — and that you eventually started playing too by the end of the trip.

Maza itself had only one restaurant, but we ate there twice because the food was incredible. Nearby were two lovely off-the-beaten-path towns: Georgioupoli, where we spent most of our time, and Vryses.

Georgioupoli will live on in family lore for two reasons. The first was its beautiful chapel sitting at the end of a long breakwater. We took some epic family photos there that I’m sure will eventually be framed in our home.

The second reason was what we now call “The Great Pokémon Scheme.”

We bought some Pokémon cards for your brother at a small supermarket for one euro a pack, and somehow he immediately pulled cards supposedly worth several hundred dollars. Convinced we had stumbled onto an incredible treasure trove, we kept buying more packs that continued producing “valuable” cards.

When Sergio and Riley arrived at the villa, we proudly told them about our incredible luck and rationalized that the cards must have remained untouched because the village was so remote. Sergio went back to the store the next day and cleaned out the remaining packs.

All in, we spent maybe 30 euros — not exactly life-changing money — but then Riley started questioning whether the cards were even real. That got me thinking about the obviously fake Gucci and Prada bags I’d noticed in the back of the store during our first visit.

We had been completely bamboozled.

Thankfully, everyone found it hilarious, and Matteo was still thrilled to have a giant stack of Pokémon cards regardless.

Did I mention the villa pool? Spectacular. We spent hours there and even hosted a large family dinner one evening for everyone in our group. Uncle Sergio and I visited a nearby butcher shop and picked out beautiful cuts of meat to grill.

While we were preparing dinner, a neighborhood cat wandered over and stole a chicken leg. We weren’t surprised because stray cats are everywhere in Greece and often linger around outdoor restaurants hoping for scraps. This cat, however, was special.

Maura noticed that she looked pregnant, which turned out to be true. She was incredibly affectionate, constantly kneading her paws and begging for food, pets, or both. You named her Lila, and over the last few days of the trip she essentially became our outdoor housecat.

We spent those final days in Greece exploring nearby villages and relaxing by the pool. One day, we drove all the way to Chania, the largest city in western Crete, and eventually to Falasarna, one of the island’s most famous beaches.

Unfortunately, strong winds followed us throughout much of the trip, so we only stayed at Falasarna for about an hour and didn’t spend as much beach time overall as I originally imagined. Surprisingly, I didn’t mind. There was already so much to see and explore.

We practically had to peel you away from Lila on our last day at the villa. You cried and cried.

That final morning, your mom and I woke up early to finish packing and noticed Lila asleep outside on a chair. But by the time you woke up, she had disappeared, and you became so worried you wouldn’t get to say goodbye.

You were incredibly sweet about it, though perhaps a little irrationally emotional too.

Thankfully, Lila returned to the house shortly before we left, and you felt much better seeing her one last time.

Our two-and-a-half-week adventure ended back in Rome for one final night before our return flight home through Reykjavik. We stayed in an apartment in Fiumicino, a small fishing village near the airport, and spent our final morning strolling along the marina and enjoying one last cornetto breakfast.

You and Matteo were amazing on this trip. We pushed you hard — walking 10- to 12-mile days, constantly relocating, hopping on planes every few days, and doing plenty of “adult” activities at museums, historical sites, and fancy restaurants.

Through all of it, you kept a positive attitude. You showed genuine curiosity about the places we visited, and whenever things became overwhelming, you disappeared into books, drawing, or your imagination for a little while.

I’m deeply thankful for these family trips because they seem to bring out the very best in us.

Love,
Dad

Dear Matteo 106 Months Old

Hello from Rome!

We’re entering the third day of a 2.5-week trip through Rome, Naples, and Crete. This is your second trip to Italy and definitely one you’ll remember more than the first, when you were here as an infant. It will also be our first trip to Greece as a family, and I haven’t been back to visit Aunt Pam in nearly two decades. I can’t give a great reason for why it’s taken so long. There are simply too many exciting places to see in the world, and the travel time and costs are no joke for a family of four.

This is a trip your Mom has been waiting for ever since we met. Soon after we started dating, she had the idea that we’d someday go to Greece because of my family connections there, and seventeen years is a long time to wait! Sorry, Amanda — and thank you for your patience.

Rome has been a wonderful start to the trip. We recovered quickly after the long flight from home through Reykjavik and spent our first evening walking the neighborhoods around our Airbnb just north of Trastevere. Yesterday, our first full day in the city, my watch recorded about 25,000 steps, which was probably closer to 35,000 with your shorter legs. You and Eliza were troopers.

We visited the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain, and the Colosseum — all the major tourist sites. You also put your new Camp Snap camera to work, taking photos everywhere we went. Because the camera has no screen, we won’t know how the pictures turned out until we upload them back at home. Mom and I are always looking for small ways to reduce screen time and the instant gratification that comes with digital devices whenever we can.

After checking off the major landmarks, we made it to the destination you and Eliza were most excited about: the Torre Argentina Cat Sanctuary. Uncle Sergio told us about this place, where older and disabled cats are cared for among ancient ruins where healthier cats roam and play. We learned that the nonprofit shelter has spayed or neutered nearly 100,000 cats and helped control Rome’s stray cat population. But honestly, none of that mattered to you as much as getting to pet a lot of cats! Several were blind, and all of them were friendly. You spent most of your time running around with your Camp Snap camera taking photos of every cat you could find.

We’ve already eaten some amazing food. Cornetti in the morning filled with chocolate or pistachio. Tonnarelli with ragù. Rigatoni al dente with pesto. Endless gelato — with your consistent flavor choice being mango every single time. I can understand how Romans get away with eating so many carbs. When you’re not eating, you’re walking them off on the way to the next restaurant or café.

Today we’re heading back to the Vatican for a proper tour. Your Mom and I visited when Eliza was a baby, but we didn’t have a guide. This time, I’d like a better understanding of the art and architecture. It’s also an interesting moment to visit with Pope Leo, the first American pope, now leading the Vatican. I keep joking with you that we’re visiting his house.

Tomorrow we check out and head to Naples, where my Nonno and Nonna were from. We’re planning to visit Uncle Vince and Aunt Carla, see Pompeii, and possibly spend some time in Sorrento. We will eat all the Neapolitan pizza we can, and I can’t wait.

Love,
Dad