Dear Lukey 4

Hello, my love. I just finished reading the last letter I wrote to you an entire year ago, back when your fourth birthday seemed like some far-off notion I’d never be able to comprehend. And yet, that day is here, and while much has changed, much has stayed the same. 

You still love Bluey and Muppets. You still hate the word no. You still love pizza and yogurt. You’re still…let’s say “aggressively enthusiastic” when your sister comes home from school every day. You still start every day by climbing into my lap and snuggling with me while we sit in our corner of the couch (“sit cor-nah?” is the first thing you say to me most mornings, and I love it).

You have been getting up earlier, though. All that bragging I used to do to my other mom friends about what an amazing sleeper you were (“I have to wake him up at 9! Can you believe it! Mmmhurhurhurhurrrr” *sips martini*) came back to bite me big time, when you realized Libby gets up at 7:30 every day for school and our mad dash to get her out the door was potential Family Fun Time you were missing out on. So now, after you hear my alarm go off each morning, you stumble into the hallway, ready to start your day despite not having to be at your own school until three hours later. That means I get to spend my mornings swapping the Today show for whatever Disney movie is your current fav and pining for the days when I used to sneak back to bed for an hour after I got Lib on the bus. But you know what? It gives us more time to sit cor-nah, and I can’t think of a better way to start my day.

After our a.m. snuggle, it’s off to preschool, where you are wrapping up your first year. I spent the whole of last summer worried that maybe you weren’t ready to be away from me just yet. The world was just dipping its big toe back into the shallow end of normalcy after covid, meaning you and I had barely spent any time apart for nearly a year and a half. I thought you might need more time to get used to not seeing me for a few hours at a time or socializing with other kids who weren’t your sister. Once again, you proved me wrong. You’ve made me so proud with how well you’ve done making friends and learning new things. I was proudest, however, during your Christmas pageant when you made like your hero The Grinch and stole the whole show.

The shimmy at the end is EVERYTHING.

You’ve also spent the last year falling in love. While you do have a crush on a sweet little girl in your class named Katarina and you affectionately refer to our next-door neighbor Lucy as “my girl,” your heart actually belongs to a deceased nonagenarian. Eric Carle, the late author of such classics as “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” and “Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?”, has brought you more joy in the last few months than nearly anything else. I love listening to you read his books aloud, half because of how happy it makes you and half because of how you pronounce some of the animal names. You opt to call the boa constrictor a “ball shaker” and I have zero intentions of correcting you.  

I hope you read this intensely well into adulthood. 

The only thing that might contend with Carle as the thing that makes you most happy is Steve. Steve is the subject of a penguin documentary airing on Disney+ that we have watched however many times it takes for a four-year-old to memorize a 70-minute script. The first time I put it on, I needed something to distract you while I did laundry. I was down in the basement when I heard you shrieking hysterically upstairs as if someone was pinning you down and tickling you within an inch of your life. I raced upstairs to find you cry-laughing at a silly little penguin tripping all over himself to the peppy pop number “Stir It Up” by Patti LaBelle. I have never heard you laugh harder, before or since. 

I mean, I giggle every time, too.

I think Steve speaks to the comedian in you, as this past year has shown us how utterly funny you can be. You love to perform, whether you’re reciting dialogue from your favorite show or shaking your little booty along to the Jeopardy theme song (with perfectly timed hip juts, I might add). You do just about anything to make us all laugh or smile. You’re happiest when the people you love are happy, which is something I love most about you. You show us your beautiful heart in so many ways every day, and each one makes me love you even more. 

I adore you, My Sun.

Love, 

Your Moon (a.k.a. Mommy)

Dear Libby 7

Seven. Seven? Seven. I just keep looking at you and saying it over and over again. At first, you thought it was funny, but by now, I think it’s become annoying to keep catching your mother gazing wistfully at you with tears dotting her eyes when you’re just trying to find the latest EthanGamer video on YouTube. Sorry, kid. I just can’t believe it’s been seven whole years since you came into my life and changed every single aspect of it. I can’t believe you’re so old that you really don’t need me for much anymore (I mean, I still give you food and shelter and all that, but I can remember a time when you needed my help just to sit upright, so excuse me if the idea of a world where you can pick out your own outfits—and serve me legit pushback when I disagree with your choices—seems a bit bonkers to me). 

That’s your favorite sweater. It’s white so luckily it never ever gets anything spilled on it. 

As I write this, you’re sitting at your desk working on math homework. You spend a lot of time on schoolwork these days, as first grade has you reading, writing and bringing home library books you choose simply to mess with me and dad (subjects have included snakes, head lice and more snakes). It’s been amazing to watch that inquisitive mind of yours at work though I have to admit, keeping pace with you is impossible. The sheer volume of questions you ask me on a daily basis is staggering and all I can say is thank God for Google because most of the time, my answer would be, “I have no earthly clue. Ummmm…..ask dad.” You have figured out how to use an iPad and Alexa so that helps and as your reading skills improve, I suspect Wikipedia is going to become your new best friend. 

Speaking of the iPad, it has become your favorite downtime activity. You have approximately 9,000 apps, most of which are dedicated to giving unicorns makeovers. You have some word games and some streaming channels. But your favorite online activity is, by far, watching other kids play on their own devices. You will lose hours of your life to seeing how EthanGamer gets away from the machete-wielding pig in Roblox. You devote multiple viewings to a video of a child you’ve never met unwrapping birthday presents. Most of these videos have millions of views, and yet, while I don’t fully understand this phenomenon, I’m basically OK with it. I mean, I can remember watching Pee-wee’s Playhouse every Saturday morning so I know kids tend to like things adults simply don’t get. And I know you don’t know what Pee-wee’s Playhouse is. Ask Alexa. 

Few sentiments have ever resonated more with me.

EthanGamer is not, however, the most important Ethan in your life. That would be your classmate of three years now, who lives just down the street and is your absolute BFF 4EVA OMG. Ethan is your bestie but as you frequently remind me, you have big plans that extend far beyond the confines of elementary school. You two plan to marry and move to Florida so you can be close to Disney World (I mean, I get it). Where are you planning to get enough money to support your Mouse habit? By being online influencers, of course. I totally support this vision, as my retirement plan involves me selling keychains outside Hogwarts Castle in Universal Studios dressed like an aged Harry Potter character every day, so as long as you don’t mind park hopping from time to time, we’ll stay close. 

The good news is if the YouTube star plan doesn’t pan out, you have a solid backup. You love art and have told me many times (in non-Ethan related conversations) that you plan to become a famous artist one day. This is also something I support as I know how much joy you find in drawing pictures, making cards and mastering new skills. Blank paper is a commodity in this house, as any scrap is fair game for becoming part of your latest creation. You have started drawing mainly at the desk in the dining room your use for doing homework but you occasionally still use Art Show, which is what you've always called the beloved little easel desk you got for Christmas four years ago that still resides in our living room. Your brother has started to monopolize Art Show a bit, but I’ll always think of it as the exact spot where your budding career began. 

Your Valentines to Dad and me this year. Hallmark, eat your heart out.

I also know that no matter whatever life brings your way, you’ll continue to carry that remarkable inner light that shines everywhere you go. You simply radiate, kid. Your heart is so full of love and positivity, it’s impossible to keep it all inside. You show kindness freely and without hesitation. You care about the people around you and expect others to do the same. That genuine, consistent empathy is what I love most about you and in my attempt to emulate it, I’ve become a better person myself. 

I simply couldn’t love you more or be more proud to be your mother. You make me happy every day. You are my sun and my sky. 

Love, 

Mummy