Dear Eliza, 122 Months Old

You’re—dare I say—back into piano. You transcribed the melody for “Character” that you learned in music class and have practiced it every night, along with flourishes of other songs you already know. I learned music the same way—figuring out songs by ear—and it’s a trip to watch you do the same. Mom put an app in front of you so you could practice more formally. You tried it for a night, then went right back to deconstructing music on your own.

The activity is contagious. I find myself sitting at the piano after you. Sometimes I learn something new; often I return to parts of songs I’ve written or know. For the first time in what feels like years, I wrote something new. Nothing fancy—just an E to C chord, trying to figure out how to make a chorus work in some G progression. Some songs I figure out in a night. This one will take time. No lyrics yet. Those come later—or not at all. Mom asks if I should write it down so I don’t forget. I probably should do a quick phone recording, but usually the music sticks after a night of playing.

We’re in the midst of the holidays, so we should probably be playing more “Jingle Bells” and “Carol of the Bells.” The Christmas magic is alive and well. I was a little concerned that you or Matteo might start asking more questions after our trip to Michaels, where Elf on the Shelf was merchandised front and center, boxes of elves piled high. Instead, you told us the elves probably get their magic once they enter a home—so you explained the magic yourself. I’m sure you’re hearing all kinds of stories about Christmas magic at school, and maybe you’re even playing along for us. I don’t mind keeping the spirit and mystery alive. I know I’ll miss it.

As we enter these pre-teen years, Mom and I go back and forth about how much we should push you to grow up faster. As the first-born, there’s no older sibling showing you what’s next. Your bedroom has been a point of focus. There’s a lot packed into that room—books, stuffies, art. We don’t think you need an “older” room yet, but we are trying to reduce the clutter, which means donating or letting go of some “younger” toys and dolls. It’s a balance: figuring out what still matters to you and what you’re growing out of. Good news—we made it through a lot of wall-to-wall decisions, and your room now feels less like a museum of your life and more like the room a 10-year-old needs.

We also need to make some space, because Christmas is right around the corner—and I’m pretty sure a few new things will want to take center stage.

Love,
Dad

Dear Matteo, 101 Months Old

You’ve come up with your own celebratory dance when you’re happy. It’s hard to describe in words, but it looks something like holding something in front of you, gently tapping it with alternating hands, and then transitioning into a little tail-feather shake. The moves are basically hip-hop, and you’re definitely aura-farming when you break them out.

All of that happy dancing points to you being a consistently joyful kid these days. You’re eager to tell us stories about your day, ask questions, or share factoids about the sports teams you’ve been researching. You’ve also stepped up to be the lead chef in the kitchen for morning pancakes.

You’ve taken a big leap in your reading, too. Like your teacher said, it’s all about finding the right books to motivate you — and thankfully the I Survived series captured your imagination. We’ve read about Mt. St. Helens erupting and a shark attack survival story. The books aren’t too scary, but they’re suspenseful, and I love how you never want to stop after just one chapter. Now that you and Eliza are both bookworms, our nighttime routine is easier because you’re willing — instead of forced — to head to your rooms at night.

I feel like this letter is all about big moves toward maturity, and I have one more example: swim lessons. You and Eliza are excellent swimmers, and we thought you’d both enjoy more pool time during the winter and some formal instruction to become even stronger swimmers. Eliza ultimately refused, but you leaned in and have been genuinely excited about the lessons. As with other sports, you make sure you have all the right gear — in this case, jammer shorts, high-end goggles, and a swim cap. The cap pulls on your mullet, but you wince through the pain of getting it on and off. You also impressively swim a ton of laps using different strokes in just 45 minutes! You have a natural butterfly motion, and you’re speedy at freestyle. It’s fun to see you excel in another sport.

We’ve got Christmas ahead, so keep up the good attitude and dance moves. The elves are watching.

Love,
Dad

Dear Eliza, 121 Months Old

This past weekend, we may have watched your final days playing on an organized soccer team.

You played a few years ago on a small-sided team, and we were a little surprised earlier this year when you said you wanted to try again — likely inspired by some of your school friends.

But the early excitement didn’t last long. Most of this season has been an on-and-off battle to get you onto the field. You seem to enjoy the practices, but the games… not so much. I remember one game where you were so upset to be there that I had to walk you all the way to your coaches, practically dragging you onto the field. Neither of us was very happy that day.

Mom and I never want to force you into activities you don’t enjoy, but we do want you to finish what you start — especially for your teammates’ sake. You’ve told us that the coaches and games feel a little too intense, and I get that. Sometimes soccer takes itself a bit too seriously, especially for a group of 10-year-olds.

Heading into the last game of the season, you weren’t thrilled about waking up early on a Saturday to play, but we went anyway — and it turned out your team only had nine players, with no subs. It seems we weren’t the only family with waning enthusiasm this late in the season.

With no choice but to play, you ended up having one of your best games yet. You had tons of touches in the first half. Even though you’re one of the smaller players, you’re also one of the fastest, and you put your head down and chased down loose balls again and again. The other team had what felt like an entire second squad of subs, and the fresh legs wore your team out. Down 4–0 at halftime, you moved into goalkeeper — a position you’ve been good at.

Sure enough, they kept coming at you. And you made some great saves, attacking the ball with instinct and zero hesitation. I was so impressed, and the parents on the sideline were too. A few more shots got past you, but none of that mattered. Your effort was unmistakable.

After the game, I half-expected you to be upset about the score, but instead you were in great spirits — maybe proud of your performance, maybe relieved the season was over. Either way, I’ll take the smiles.

And just when we thought soccer was behind us, you went to a birthday party that evening at the new PenMet indoor soccer center — where Mom and I play our adult league games. You ran around with your friends, played even more soccer, and had even more fun in that relaxed setting. Then the next day we were back there again for our games, and you and Matteo spent halftime playing on the field. It was easily the most soccer you’ve ever played in a single weekend. I saw real flashes of skill and joy — the whole point of sports in the first place.

As you know, I grew up playing a lot of soccer, and I genuinely love the game. It’s been wonderful to be back on the field with Mom and our community of friends, staying active and sharing a little competition. I also love that you and Matteo get to see us out there at our “older” age. I want both of you to stay active well into adulthood. It’s good for your body and mind, and it feeds your spirit — knowing you can run, compete, and connect with teammates, friends, and even new people you meet on the field.

While I imagine soccer may wind down for you in the coming months or years — with dance and skiing taking center stage — I have a sneaky suspicion you’ll find your way back to a soccer field now and then. Maybe even on a team again someday. You have too much natural athleticism, and there will always be people to play with.

Just make sure you’re having fun.

Love,
Dad

Dear Matteo, 100 Months Old

We finally made it back to Indiana. After spending the past year trying to get your Popa Roger to visit—and canceling his flights multiple times due to ongoing health issues—we decided to make the trip ourselves using buddy passes from Grandma Vicki and Aunt Courtney. We can’t blame Popa; he’s been dealing with eye, neck, leg… pretty much everything issues. It’s a lot easier for our younger, able bodies to travel anyway.

A highlight of the trip was visiting your cousins Abby and Mason at Ball State on our way to Fort Wayne. There’s nothing quite like a college house anywhere in America—used furniture, sparse but meaningful décor, and bohemian vibes. Abby’s place checked all those boxes, and it made me nostalgic for that phase of life and truly happy that Abby and Mason get to experience it. I also admire how close they are as adult siblings—and hope you and Eliza are taking note.

We hadn’t been back to Fort Wayne since Grammie’s funeral, and a lot changes every time we visit. The areas outside of Leo, especially DuPont, are growing fast with new homes and businesses popping up everywhere. Your mom always finds a beautiful house for sale on a road she loves—at a ridiculously low price, thanks to the cost of living there.

What’s really changed, though, is Popa’s lifestyle. He bought a great newer home in a 55+ community and is selling the family home your mom grew up in. That’s a big deal—it’s been in the family since the early 1980s. The house itself isn’t in great shape, to be honest. Popa had a crew working on the foundation and fumigating (getting rid of pests). The main reason for our trip was to help him clean out the house and make sure your mom could keep the belongings that meant the most to her.

This was also the first trip where we had to stay at a hotel, since work was being done on the family home. We stayed at a SpringHill Suites that gave us plenty of space and a good place to crash between long days of sorting through closets, boxes, photos, and documents. You, meanwhile, enjoyed all the screen time in the world.

We spent time with Popa’s friend Patty, who your mom knew growing up through her daughter. Patty has been incredibly kind, helping keep an eye on Popa and managing his health issues in recent months. We also made it to a few parks and visited friends. You really hit it off with Creed when we saw the Reynolds family, who we have such a special bond with—especially because of how close your mom is with Daisha. Distance can’t come between true friendships; it just makes you appreciate the time you get together. I know your mom really misses Daisha.

This trip was emotional for us. Going through decades of memories reminded us how much love filled that home and how much Grammie cared for all of us. She was an impressive archivist and a prolific photographer. She had backup CDs of print photos and boxes labeled by person, place, or event. There are also plenty of genealogy records we didn’t have time to go through—but I’m glad we have that family history preserved. By the time we left, your mom and I felt good about what we kept and what we let go of. We brought home a box of photos and a few small keepsakes.

Getting home took longer than planned. After sitting at the gate for a few hours, Alaska Airlines canceled our flight due to IT issues, and we spent an extra night at an airport hotel. I don’t think I’ve ever spent a full week in Indiana—even when your mom and I got married there. We made the most of it, though, adding a visit to the Indianapolis Zoo on a beautiful October day while it poured rain back home. Instead of a canceled flight, it felt like we were given a bonus day—maybe a little gift from Grammie.

Love,
Dad

Dear Eliza, 120 Months Old

You are 10 years old! Double digits! We have talked about approaching this milestone, and you've said you didn't want to grow up that fast. I can understand why. Being a kid is fun, and I'm glad you are enjoying this time so much that you don't want it to change.

I can relate. In a lot of ways, I don't want to get any older either or change the enjoyable moment we're in—but it's been a series of changes that made this era of time so fun, and you have to believe that there are more good times ahead—different but good—with a little change along the way. For example, you love styling your look and had that era of sticker earrings, but look at how much more fun you're having shopping for and making earrings for your pierced ears.

There have been plenty of moments where your mom and I were unsure about change or the next phase. We weren't entirely sure we were ready for kids. I bet you're glad about the result of that decision! We weren't sure we wanted to sell the Tacoma house. Some days, Mom isn't sure if we should homeschool you and Matteo. Ha! You can ask her about that later.

Of course, at my age, getting older is tied to getting a little physically slower, so that's not fun. For you, it's the opposite—as you near your tweens, your body and mind are just getting more capable. That's something to look forward to.

Speaking of changes, in past years we celebrated your birthday via an Oktoberfest party for all ages. This year, you wanted to focus your party attendees and theme on a “K-pop Demon Hunters” idea that, I admit, is tough to pair with Bavarian culture. The party is yet to come because we're making an Indiana trip, but I'm sure it will be a big hit. I can consume my pretzel and sausage another time. What I care about most is that you feel celebrated and excited for what's ahead in these double-digit ages.

You've asked if you're a tween yet because you're excited by the idea of being seen and identified as not just being a kid, and we decided that you have another year or two. According to other parents just ahead of us, the tweens are filled with big emotions that we've seen signs of. I'm not rushing into that!

But I am excited for what's coming. You're funny, creative, thoughtful, and strong. You care deeply about your friends, your art, and our family. You make our lives brighter every single day. Whether you're still in the “kid” stage or inching into your tween years, I hope you know how proud I am of the person you are right now—and how much I believe in the person you're becoming.

So here’s to 10: the start of something new, the middle of something wonderful, and another chance for all of us to keep growing together.

Love,
Dad