Dear Matteo, 11 Months Old

We just came home from your first camping trip ever! We were out at Penrose Point State Park, a safe distance from our house in case we had to bail. Fortunately you and Eliza slept well-enough at night and napped during the day. I never expect to sleep great on any kind of backpacking or camping trip, so to get decent sleep with both of you was a major win. 

Summer is off to a great start. We also got a double kayak for the family and fit all of us (minus Greta) on a first outing at the Chaffee beach house. You went a strong 20 minutes before demanding to nurse. Your Mom figured out the logistics with both of you wearing life jackets and got you to latch on the open water. I was the only paddler on the boat. We weren't moving fast but I paddled straight to shore before you reached total meltdown. Next time we need to add your Froggy WubbaNub to our paddling checklist. 

You've had a lot of helmet breaks as the weather has warmed up. We see you get overheated underneath all that plastic and foam. Not exactly breathable. You sweat like I do, and your helmet gets a little stinky. The breaks are good for hygiene.

I like to take the helmet off to actually SEE you. The helmet almost has a brim and shades your eyes. When I can see the entire frame of your face and hair I get to see all of your expression. You're such a cute little guy. Everyone comments on how smiley you are, and the smile is at maximum effectiveness when the helmet is off. Your head shape is getting better, so the helmet is working. Hopefully you'll only have another month or so before another growth spurt to close the gap and we can get rid of the helmet for good. 

You're a strong guy. You started pulling yourself up to stand just a couple days ago. I think you were motivated to reach Greta's food and water dishes. Missioned accomplished. You'll find the world has way better snacks than dog kibble, by the way. To prove your improving strength you like to wrestle with Eliza on the couch and beds. Although she has height and reach advantages, you hold your own and bury your helmet head in her stomach to toss her back. You're the pound-for-pound featherweight champ in this house. 

I can't believe you're turning one next month. This has been so much fun. 

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, 31 Months Old

Dear Eliza,

Your strong will shows up in seemingly all aspects of life. When you want to listen to music you command it (from Alexa). When you want parmesan cheese on everything on your dinner plate you order it repeatedly. We need to figure out a way to temper down your demand into requests. Earlier this month we strung you and your brother from Stockholm to Ghent to Amsterdam. Aside from the time zone struggles, we were most concerned about... your chocolate milk demands. 

Yes, like the lore of a high-maintenance music star demanding only green M&Ms in the green room, you have a rider enforcing chocolate milk wherever you sleep or wake. You actually slept very little on the airplane -- the hardest place to fetch lukewarm chocolate milk -- as you binged on Pixar and Dreamworks movies. Luckily, our hotel in Stockholm had a coffee bar with a ready milk supply and frother. Our Airbnb in Ghent didn't have the same accommodations, but we were able to find chocolate milk at the grocery, which is not in the chilled section -- concerning us -- and that got you through the rest of the trip.  

We developed a funny little game on that trip where you would say, "Um, I have a question. I'm two." I would reply, "I have a question. I'm 35." And then you would try to remember your Mom's age and Matteo's age in the same pattern. I enjoy these strange little conversations. Other frequent topics are "The baby in my belly," which you name Eliza, and call-and-response etiquette where you get to say, "Ohhh thank you, Daddy," and "You're wellll-come, Daddy." We have these on video because your inflections are adorable. 

Just a couple days after we arrived back home, I was back on a plane for a work trip to New York. Let me tell you, traveling without you kiddos is E-A-S-Y. I love you and all, but you don't travel light. While on the flight I was able to watch a continuous movie without pause or interruption, a drastic contrast, and enjoyed a film called Lady Bird. It’s a classic coming-of-age plot that reminded me of all the tough, exciting parts of being a teenager and becoming a young adult.

That slice of life feels so slow in the moment but so fast looking back.

There’s a classic parent-daughter tension in the movie, and I’m curious if we’ll see some of that. You already have strong opinions about yourself and the decisions we make for you. Hell, you only gave us the first 18 months of our life to pick out what you wear.

Whenever you appreciate it or not, your mother is simply the best resource for how to navigate your own path. She has made so many of the right choices, and that’s admirable because the right choices are the hardest ones to make. Making the right choices consistently is even harder, which is why your Mom is a damn anomaly. Of course, you won’t be her or me or some fractional equation of us. You are your own person that will only have shades of your mother’s looks and tendencies. Not a bad place to start. Of course, you won't realize or appreciate this until you're well into adulthood, because that's how life works. Wisdom is a learned trait like that. It comes with age. 

Speaking of age, I have a question. I'm 35.

Love, Dad

Dear Matteo, 10 Months Old

You got your first passport stamp in Iceland. So cool!

I had a work conference in Stockholm and we made a family trip out of it, also visiting Ghent and Amsterdam over two weeks. Although your Mom and I are adventurous, we were still nervous about the 12 hours of plane time each way with you and Eliza. It’s tough sitting on a plane that long for us big kids, too. Everyone gets a little sweaty and disheveled on international flights and we gave you a few helmet breaks to keep your head cool. You fought sleep a couple times but otherwise did great!  

You had a hard time adjusting to the new time zone -- nine hours ahead -- and liked to wake up in the middle of the night. To attempt to get you back to sleep, your Mom would strap you in a baby carrier and walk all over the hotel, stopping to make friends with the night-shift staff and making her way to the 7-Eleven around the corner to chit-chat with the cashier and buy croissants for the morning. She made these laps for three consecutive nights before you got on schedule.

You’ve developed the strange need to hold onto your Mom’s hair to fall asleep, which makes her presence mandatory. Likewise, your sister has been demanding with back rubs to fall asleep, which can also only be administered by your Mom. She’s in high demand. You've got to let me contribute to the nighttime routine or you'll make me look bad, OK? You have been getting into books quite a bit more, so I’ve been able to help wind you down that way. Your favorite on the trip was “McDuff Comes Home,” a book about a Westie dog running off from home to chase a rabbit. You love giggling at the sight of the little white dog on each page. 

Here's a biggie: You started crawling in Stockholm! You crawled all over our room at Hotel Rival. Your crawl style is a little more like a scoot because you tuck one leg in and use the other to push off like using a skateboard. You army-crawl fine so we know both legs are working, but you choose to do this one-leg crawl/scoot to keep yourself upright. Of course, you improved on this method with each day, and by the time we were in Amsterdam we couldn’t take our eyes off you as you darted toward any dangling cord, plant, or power outlet.

Aside from those daring attempts at hurting yourself, we found the trip was manageable because northern European countries are so family-friendly. That may be why they’re constantly rated as the happiest places to live. I was shocked by how many young families we saw out and about. It wasn’t just the great weather. It’s because these countries, Sweden in particular, have amazing, federally-mandated parental leaves. In Sweden, parents are entitled to about 16 months of leave, which can be split between both parents, and they get paid 80 percent of their income for 13 months. That’d be like me not working for the last 10 months and still having a few to go. Compare that to the two weeks I had off for parental leave. Major difference.  

A highlight of the trip, among many, was how you started to really want to cuddle with me. You like to bury your head (or helmet) in my neck for a few seconds in a loving way. You haven’t been the cuddliest guy, which is OK, but it’s been a nice welcome as there is nothing better than a baby snuggle. I wonder if it’s because I only see you in windows of time during the normal weekdays. Alternatively, we had so much continuous time on the trip perhaps you became more comfortable. Maybe if we were living in Sweden that would have happened a lot earlier.

I am sorry we didn’t get to spend all the early time of your life together like those Northern European families, but we don’t have it half-bad either. We have better Asian food in Tacoma.

Wait, no, we ate great Thai foot at one restaurant. Well, shit.

Here’s to more passport stamps.

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, 30 Months Old

Our home is a little more chaotic than usual. There's a partially-finished new bathroom upstairs with plywood and tarp keeping the April showers from seeping in. Boxes of alleged child and dog-proof Pergo flooring are stacked up in the kitchen. We're a little squeezed in a mad dash of home improvements. At least the Ikea cordless blinds look nice in the windows. 

You somehow benefit from the mess like an arms dealer during war. The idea that you and Matteo could share a room was short-lived. Now you get to share our bedroom so Matteo can have his own to fuss and teeth in. We tried Matteo in our bedroom first, but if he knows your Mom is in the room he needs to be within reach of the milk supply. You won the sibling battle for parent proximity. 

But I tell you: Once the construction is done upstairs, your butt is moving upstairs. 

Since this move into our bedroom, you've gotten on our sleep schedule. That is to say, you don't want to fall asleep until 9 or 10 p.m. That ain't working, sister. Add that to the fact that you suddenly deny midday naps. Who does that? You should be taking midday naps from now through college. On that note, you are acting a lot like a college student these days. You are a night owl and occassionally pee your pants. 

We try to put you down for bed -- like responsible, desperate parents do -- around 7:30, but unconfined by the prison bars of a crib you jump out and jump all over our bedroom while we are trying to Netflix-binge the day away in the living room. Occasionally you jump out of the bedroom and proclaim "I'm awake!" Thanks, Captain Obvious.  

Pause Netflix. Spend 15 minutes getting you to settle down again. Bribe. Walk back into living room. Fill up wine glass. Unpause Netflix. Let 20 minutes pass. Repeat. 

On the flip side, in the morning I get to see your messy bedhead and mumbled request for chocolate milk. It almost makes it worth it. Not quite, but close.

Love always, Dad. 

Dear Matteo, 9 Months Old

Son, you're in a corrective helmet for the foreseeable future. 

We decked it out with knock-off Star Wars decals so you look like a stormtrooper! We could have gone with a protagonist Rebellion look, but that decal package just wasn't authentic enough for me.

The helmet is coming in handy as you're rolling all over the house. You haven't gotten the hang of crawling or scooting yet, so we're relieved to see you in a helmet while you treat your head like a bowling ball. 

This won't be the last time you're in some kind of corrective gear. Maybe you'll get braces. You might break a bone and need a cast. An amazing, often overlooked aspect of life is that we can heal and transform. When you get a cut you bleed a little, and then that cut closes itself up and goes away in a couple days. That's like a very weak, Wolverine-like healing super power! The helmet is going to guide your head as it grows to become more round where you now have a flat spot in the back. Again, really cool! I don't believe there's a known superhero for slow plagiocephaly treatment, but there should be. Are you reading this, Marvel?

How did you get the flat spot in the first place? Well, our theory is that you were such a big baby that your soft, infant skull couldn't hang with the weight of everything else in your head and, well, gave in. But no biggie. Your head will be good as round in no time, or six months.

The flat spot isn't all that bad, but we figure it's worth a little health insurance money and discomfort now to ensure we minimize any concern you would have when you really start to care about how you look or how other people look at you. Here's the good news: you are wicked handsome and that trend won't change. It's almost unfair that we're evening out that little flat spot because it eliminates all the competition.

Another unexpected challenge we've been dealing with is your food allergies. You're ravenous and interested in trying new foods, but we've found that you get skin reactions -- often on your face and hands -- to strawberries and some dairy products. No strawberry milkshakes for you, kiddo. The good news is that you're not allergic to peanut butter and I'd MUCH rather be allergic to strawberries (rarely in season or often overripe) than peanut butter (which has many more applications for domestic and international cuisines). Your hands are often dry and cracking, too, so we're keeping an eye on skin care overall. Your Mom is running a baby day spa up in here.

We are going to do everything we can to ensure you are confident and comfortable in your (sensitive) skin. You just worry about defending the Empire. 

Love always, Dad.