Dear Matteo, 84 Months Old

Happy birthday, Matteo! You’re finally 7!

I swear you were 6-year-old for about 3 years. I’m not complaining that time moved so slow. It’s just that you seemed a lot older than 6 most of the past year. It must be that big, strong personality of yours shining through.

We threw you a backyard birthday party and had a good turn out. The group played soccer for most of the time. So far as gifts, right now you’re into Legos and Ninjago, so you got those kinds of presents. You can now build most Lego sets without my help and you’re fast at them. By the way, you like to tell us the rank order of you’re favorite things. You say, “Dad, right now I’m into Legos and I’m not into Pokemon as much, but I still like them.” Although you’re not into robotics (yet), your Mom and I got you a robot to build (read: I’m struggling to build it with your audience) and a couple of books: a kids cookbook and a craft project book. We know you love to cook and make crafts like Eliza.

As for your “real” birthday, we’ve been out here at the island enjoying some hot weather. We’ve bounced around the pool and beaches. We took the boat to Fudge Point where we saw at least a dozen starfish at low tide. We got back into Harry Potter movies under the guise that “The Goblet of Fire” is only appropriate for kids over the age of 7. Seeing Voldemort was still a little too creepy for you, so after the movie you complained thinking about Harry Potter (but not specifically Voldemort).

On the lighter side, you told us about a new game called “Guess My Farts” where you ask us the question, we make a fart sound and then you let one go to see if the sounds match. It’s totally inappropriate and laugh-until-your-stomach-hurts funny. This is life with you at age 7, and it’s so great.

Love,
Dad

Dear Eliza, 104 Months Old

Thanks for inviting me to Career Day at school!

I spent the morning combining three of my most important jobs: being your Dad, supporting Mom (who may have nudged me), and working at REI to support our family and people wanting to get outside.

To prepare for Career Day, I took time thinking about how I’d explain what I do as a marketer to kids your age. Marketing doesn’t crest with youthful career aspirations like becoming an astronaut or video game designer. If you look at my work calendar, my job is basically meeting and managing people. The more fun and important stuff is the outcomes of those meetings and working with those people: advertisements, videos, podcasts, parties and events, etc., for REI. So I focused on that.

Aunt Nina joked that we need a family presentation night where we all take turns presenting what we actually do for work. That’s not a bad idea.

Overall, I’d say things went well. I asked students about their favorite outdoor activities and where they like to do them. I showed them some videos we’ve made at REI, and we listened to a spooky Camp Monsters podcast together. I was intrigued to see the students’ imaginations spin when they listened to the podcast compared to when they watched videos. There’s something about audio stories, like reading, that gets the mind going differently.

Of course, the highlight was presenting to YOUR class — despite that session having the most technical difficulties with my computer crashing. Sorry about that. You gave me a big hug when you saw me and told a lot of kids, “That’s my Dad!” That was worth the whole morning.

Students also dressed up for a Career Day, and I saw a big range across professional athletes to doctors, lawyers and many students imitating their parents’ careers (more doctors and lawyers than professional athletes). Of course, you did not dress up as a marketer. You dressed up as a “designer,” a fashion designer, to be specific. I love how you are so set on your artistic direction. You rocked the look with the beret, too.

Don’t jump too fast into a career. It can end up being a lot of meetings. Maybe yours will be about presenting your sketches and designs for the new season. We’ll see.

Love,
Dad

Dear Matteo, 83 Months Old

You lost your first tooth. It’s a good one. Front and center. You transformed from a fully-teethed little kid into a Little Rascal with that new gap in your smile.

This milestone happened while I was out of town, unfortuately. I had a work trip to Denver followed by a detour to San Francisco to get us signed with Italian passports. You gained international benefits from my trip and you’re welcome. Well, actually, I messed up a detail and didn’t get your Mom’s signatures notarized. so I didn’t technically get the job done in San Francisco. We got the right documents in the mail after I got home.

Enough with international documentation and back to this tooth, which was a surprise event. I hadn’t seen you work or wiggle it much in advance. You just popped it out in the middle of the school like it was another normal day. This is in stark contrast to your sister, who moves heaven with emotion about losing them but refuses to yank her very loose teeth.

You scored a few dollars from the tooth fairy for your brave effort, which created a base for a lot more income that came from a neighborhood garage sale that your Mom organized the next weekend.

I am famous for my willingness to throw away anything of value for the sake of tidier spaces, and your Mom is more the kind to keep things until they sell or find a good home. To Mom’s credit we made something like $125 over a couple of days of selling well used toys and clothing. Eliza fared better, but I think you still came out with another $20.

That’s a lot of Pokemon cards, so don’t spend it all at once.

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, 103 Months Old

It feels like a calm spring in a good way. No major highs or lows. No major weather or mood swings. We’re just cruising along and nearing the end of your school year. This letter won’t be filled with a major insight, more like a day in the life.

Most mornings, you wake up a little later than Matteo and sometimes with Luna at your side. You do a good job getting yourself dressed and brushing your hair. You need Mom’s help with hair styling or a braid but you can put up your own pony tail or just use a hairband. We make you fresh pancakes for breakfast and recently weaned you off Nutella because the ingredients aren’t, what’s the word, healthy. Not like organic maple syrup is that much better. In good weather, you and Matteo jump on your bikes and ride to the bus stop a few blocks away. Mom and I follow behind, walking with your backpacks.

Who knows what you do at school all day, but you seem to have fun. That’s your own world you live in midday. I know that you’re tracking along with your learning and Mom keeps an eye on you when she volunteers with reading groups and helping teachers with folders.

After school, you ride home ahead of us from the bus stop and you’re quick to grab Luna for a cuddle. You and Matteo like to bring Luna outside on her cat leash to share her with your neighborhood friends making their own way home. You usually transition to some indoor activity while Matteo finds a ball to play with outside. We’ve found some good art ideas on Instagram recently and one of them was a big hit. It was a circular pattern of people holding hands. Words clearly can’t do it justice.

On Thursday nights you have a two-hour dance class — a long time — and practice for an upcoming, double-header recital. You’re in your element at dance class and have confidentally memorized your choreography. I’ve asked if you want to practice more at home but you aren’t interested or concerned.

Some nights we watch a family show like a “funny cat video,” “Wipeout,” or “AFV.” Other nights we read a chapter book as a family. Since we reached the scary parts of “Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,” we’ve been cruising through the more age-appropriate Percy Jackson series.

When it’s time for bed, you pick up your own books and read for at least an hour. Too often by 9:30 or 10 p.m. (too late), we’re reminding you to put the book down and turn out the lights.

I think it’s as worthwhile to document this moment in time because it’s temporary. We’ll transition soon to summer break, the schedule will change, and you’ll grow into some different hobbies and habits. The thing about parenting is enjoying what’s happening in the now, even the routines, because they change as soon as you really appreciate them.

Love,
Dad

Dear Matteo, 82 Months Old

We’ve been having a nice start to spring here and you’ve been wanting to play non-stop in the backyard during these longer days. We’ve been playing a lot of soccer. I taught you how to flick the ball up to start juggling and you’re getting the hang of it. I spent what seemed like hours (but likely just minutes at a time) juggling a soccer ball in the street as a kid, motivated to impress my Dad. Don’t worry about impressing me. I’m just glad you want to play with me after school.

You’ve also wanted to play golf. Before you broke a window, your Mom was smart enough to buy a set of foam golf balls, which I hit more than you do. For some reason you prefer for me to chip the ball for you to catch. I think Mom prefers me golfing too because I make fewer divots. She has been working hard at recovering the lawn so we should our best keeping the grass we have in the ground.

As things go in first grade, you’ve been telling me when you’ve heard “bad words,” which range from “hell” to really bad four letter words. Earlier today when we were golfing you asked me what the word is when you remove “g” and “r” from “grass.” Obviously your spelling is improving with your casual vocabulary.

The worst word you really say is “boring.” When you are mad, angry, or disappointed, you say, “That’s boring” or “You’re boring” like it’s your personal f-bomb. It’s really effective, to your credit. Like with any communications, it’s not so much about the diction but the delivery. When you say “boring” things are the worst, rock-bottom for you. Which is to say that you’re usually hungry and whatever was boring becomes interesting or even awesome after a snack.

Thankfully, we stray from anything boring during our playtime in the backyard after school, and I’m smart enough to know that dinner is always just around the corner in case things take a turn.

Love,
Dad