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