Dear Eliza, 124 Months Old

You’ve always been a voracious reader, and keeping enough books around for you has become a challenge. Mom has started buying entire series at a time just to stay ahead. You’re now on your third Warriors arc — book three — and recently another book joined the shelf: The Amazing Generation: Your Guide to Fun and Freedom in a Screen-Filled World.

Aunt Courtney recommended it to us a couple of weeks ago. She bought it for the twins, who had early exposure to smartphones while managing Bennett’s Type 1 diabetes. She said the book helped them understand why apps and games are built to be so compelling — and sometimes harmful. We picked up copies for you and Matteo right away.

It’s a companion to The Anxious Generation, which, in simple terms, argues that phones and social media can quietly pull people away from each other — and that adults often protect kids from real-world risks while underestimating digital ones. I read it late last year and it resonated with me immediately. Mom and I have decided to keep you phone-free until at least high school and off social media well beyond that. You do have some internet access on your iPad, though mostly for games and the home movies you like to make.

You read the book quickly and seemed to understand the important part — that many apps are intentionally designed to keep you coming back. It also made me reflect on how often you and Matteo try to get our attention while one of us is looking at a screen, and how easily a phone can become a barrier between people in the same room. I try to put mine away the moment you start talking to me. Even when I have a reason for checking it, I know that reason rarely matters as much as the person in front of me.

Because the online world is coming toward you quickly — and because your friends are growing up with their own devices or older siblings — we also decided it was time to talk honestly about where babies come from. We wanted you to hear it clearly from us rather than piecing it together elsewhere. I won’t repeat the details here, but I’ll never forget your reaction a few minutes in: “Do we have to keep talking about this?” Completely fair — and very funny.

Some parts of growing up feel awkward to talk about with your parents, but they matter. Eventually you’ll compare notes with friends who are wondering the same things. We just want you to have better sources than guesses, the internet, AI, or whatever an algorithm decides to show you. When you’re unsure what’s real or what to believe, you can always come to Mom and me. We’ll listen, answer honestly, and figure it out with you.

Love,
Dad

Dear Matteo, 103 Months Old

The mullet is gone. Mom finally convinced you it was time to go shorter in the back for a new look, and you went along with it. Maybe that’s because you’re moving out of the baseball phase? I took you to the barber, and your mom couldn’t wait to see you, so she showed up with donuts — as an excuse. She was so excited she actually shrieked when she saw you. There’s nothing quite like a mother’s affection for her boy.

Looks aside, the real change this month has been the arrival of yet another pet: Mango. The marbled black-and-orange cat began showing up around the house a few weeks ago. She (?) may be the most vocal cat in existence — low-pitched, rapid-fire meows. She also doesn’t really want to be petted or held, just heard. Mango looked healthy, so we assumed she’d escaped from a nearby house or was a new outdoor cat. After asking around the neighborhood, we learned she does have a home, but apparently not one she likes to frequent because of an aggressive dog.

You and Eliza started feeding the cat (against my counsel), so now Mango is a permanent fixture on our front porch. We’ve seen her there at all hours of the day and night. Greta once barked at midnight because she heard Mango outside. Our other two cats, Luna and Mona, know she’s on the other side of the front door and stare curiously whenever she meows. Fortunately, none of our actual cats have escaped to try to meet her. I suspect they’d probably get along, but I don’t want to learn that the hard way.

I don’t expect Mango to fully integrate into the family. She’s a perfectly good outdoor cat, and honestly so obnoxiously loud I don’t think we could live with her. Maybe that’s why the neighborhood family keeps her out? We also cannot take on another cat. At this rate we’ll have a dozen by the time you move out — and guess who will still be living with them afterward.

I can’t deny your tremendous love for animals, but I can deny how many we house at once.

Love,
Dad

Dear Eliza, 123 Months Old

We are on a 3D-printing tear.

Santa brought us a family gift this year: a 3D printer named Joy. X-Maker Joy also happens to be the model of the printer. Fancy that.

The printer wasn’t a hit right away. I had to go into full IT-Dad mode to get it set up, and we ran into some Wi-Fi issues that made it hard to keep our phones connected. I eventually solved it weeks later with a new router. I’ll spare you most of the frustrating details, but let’s just say it took a few hours before we could print anything—and for a while, we couldn’t print every day without resetting the printer’s wireless connection.

Eventually, everything came together, and Mom took over the app to help you and Matteo get printing. Now, weeks later, we’ve become a toy factory—turning out fairies, turtles, chubby dinosaurs, dragons, and more. That printer hums most of the day in the kitchen, and I’ve only partially joked (because it’s true) that Mom’s new part-time job is managing all the 3D printing.

You and Matteo color some of the figurines and fidgets with acrylic pens and leave others single-color. I’m always impressed by the detail you can paint with your still-small hands. And at the volume we’re printing, you’ve done a great job giving many of the creations away to friends who are always eager for a small toy. In that sense, Joy has been a gift to a lot of people. That generosity makes me feel good about the new family device—and helps me feel better knowing we’re not just piling up plastic toys.

Because of our early IT struggles, I wasn’t sure Santa had brought us the best 3D printer option. After more research, I realized a Bambu A1 might be a better long-term fit—especially for printing larger, more functional items around the house. After all, this is a family gift. I jumped on the remaining holiday sales and bought one, and we assembled it—along with a workbench—this past weekend. Yes, I went all in. But I’m glad I did. This newer, more robust printer, which Matteo lovingly and intuitively named Bambu, is cranking out high-quality prints and can even print up to four colors at once.

By the time you read this, I hope these 3D printers sound completely archaic. Technology is supposed to move fast. I hope that years from now they’re a quarter of the size, 100 times faster, AI-powered, and able to print 32 colors from a small closet. Why order things online when you can make almost anything at home from a few pliable materials?

The first thing I printed for you on Bambu was a pair of fairy houses. We know about a natural fairy garden along a trail on Harstine Island, and we plan to place a whole fairy neighborhood there to surprise and delight young hikers. We have plenty more printing ahead to fully populate it.

I’m really glad we have something like this that we can share and both get excited about. It’s a little harder to connect with your interests now that you’re a tween than when you were smaller and happy with simple toys and games. Now you’re deep into your own worlds—Wings of Fire, Warriors, school friends, dance classes, and inside jokes. I catch glimpses of these, as it should be, and I treasure the few things we get to do together. I’ll keep thinking big and creatively about more ways for us to connect.

Love,
Dad

Dear Matteo, 102 Months Old

Christmas is a wrap. Tinsel, Elfie, and Tiny must have observed some very good behavior this year, because I think you and Eliza totally scored. Santa brought you a drone that you named DJ (a DJI Neo). He also changed things up with more shared gifts, including a metal detector and a 3D printer that you named “Joy.” You are really into naming things this year.

The metal detector and the drone have both come out on nice days, since they’re a bit weather-dependent. Mom was the first person to find something with the metal detector at Hartstene Pointe—a 2-ounce fishing weight. We’ve flown DJ a few times now, and it’s amazing how automatic it is, with modes like Follow, Circle, and Rocket. You love Follow mode best, because the drone trails you like a small, loyal dog buzzing through the air.

Joy has been printing multiple small toys a day, with Mom at the helm of the app. The first week involved quite a bit of troubleshooting—I had to get the internet signal dialed in for a 2.4 GHz connection—but after a router replacement, all is well. Now we’re printing toys like Santa’s 3D workshop. You and Eliza have made dragons, frogs, toothpaste tube pushers, catapults, rubber band shooters, and a whole plethora of other small objects. You’ve started coloring them for extra detail and giving many of them to friends, which I really appreciate. I love seeing how thoughtful you are—and, admittedly, how many of these plastic toys are making their way out of the house.

The surprise hits might have been the table tennis converter and the rotary tool—both of them Mom’s ideas. We play some table tennis at the island, but our dining table turns out to be the perfect size, and we’ve been hitting the ball a lot. You and Eliza are both getting the form and touch down so we can rally, and Mom and I like playing together too. It really is a family gift.

As for the rotary tool, Mom absolutely nailed it. You love finding sticks in the woods and whittling them into spears or carving your name into them. This powered tool lets you drill, carve, and etch more easily, and you’ve already spent a lot of time shaping wood with your imagination. I bet you’ll get even more out of it this summer.

What I like most about this year’s Christmas is that so many of the gifts are about creating. The “little kid” gifts were a fun phase, but I’m glad we’re entering one that’s more about using tools to bring your ideas to life—and even capturing some of those big ideas from the sky with a drone.

Love,
Dad

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