Dear Matteo, 15 Months Old

You are a walking, talking, eating-everything-in-sight little monster.

You have fearlessly practiced walking since nailing your official first steps. That effort paid off as you transitioned to walking as your default transportation mode over the past week. You take a wide stance and shriek with delight when your Mom mimics your movements.

You almost immediately wanted to start playing soccer. I use the ball of my feet to move the ball around the house, and you curiously took to that instead of outright kicking. The results are some brilliant-looking footwork combined with hard falls when you try a step-over move over a full-size ball that your inseam can’t clear.

The talking is starting to improve and you’re pronouncing more two-syllable words with caveman oration. You can say apple, balloon, walk, up, cracker, bye, Liza, Mama, Dada, wawa (water), and Greta (really just “grr” when you see the dog).

You don’t say but most often scream “baba!” for the bottle you demand before and after a nap or night’s sleep and occasionally the hours in between. Because of your dairy allergies these are rather expensive almond and oat milk bottles. But hey, they’re cheaper than the “adult bottles” people order at Starbucks.

You are a very good eater and probably have the same calorie intake I do. You demonstrate some fine motor skills using a fork or spoon to eat your food. It’s funny to watch you eat your morning Cheerios now with a spoon. You look like a toddler trying to impersonate an adult, which I guess is what growing up looks like.

While in many ways you are a raucous, wild child trying to find your way to the water table or nearest patch of dirt – often in that order to get muddied – you also find a balance and can be incredibly sweet and cuddly, which we love. Especially in the morning, you are content staying in your sleep-sack for a while on the couch with us and burrowing your head into the nearest neck. You don’t stay there long, popping up your bundle of blonde hair to listen to the airplane that flew by or reacting to Greta’s bark. But for that moment, life is good and you’re still our baby.

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, 35 Months Old

I just got the text from your Mom about how the first day at your new preschool is going.

First days are hard, and you’ll have plenty of them. You want to be yourself. You want to fit in. You want to find comfort and create familiarity. I don’t have the full story from your Mom yet, but it sounds like you made it through the first two hours (out of three) before shedding some tears. A teacher asked if you were feeling sad, and obviously you were. I bet you bit your lower lip a few times before that.

I am proud of you for working through those tough moments without us. There are plenty of cliches about dealing with adversity. The punchlines are all the same: you’re better for it.

Before I left for work today you expressed some concern and asked, “Will you come back to me?” Like Daniel Tiger says, grown-ups always come back.

My heart aches that you would feel sad, alone, scared or abandoned, but you’re learning that those are the feelings associated with gaining a little more independence. I don’t take for granted that in coming years you won’t consider if your Mom and I are going somewhere with you and will probably wish we don’t.

You’ve already worked through a lot of discomfort gracefully. Your third international trip in as many years has proven you’re a pro at traveling. There were some rough moments traveling to Italy a few weeks ago, but we didn’t have to worry about you much at all. You did a great job on the plane with your potty training and sat calmly watching your movies, taking breaks to snack and nap. You’ve been great at helping Matteo, too, and sweetly reach to hold his hand when you’re sitting side-by-side in the stroller. Sometimes you’re not so sweet and snatch toys from him, and he retaliates by pulling your hair. You will have grow-out bangs for years at this pace.

You show flashes of maturity, asking intelligent questions and jumping in on conversations where we don’t expect you to. You love watching Taylor Swift videos, falling under the spell she has cast on millions of little girls. Whether her songs are playing in the background or not, you ask me to dance with you. I never say no to the opportunity to spin and jump around.

And for everyone of those growing-up moments, you like to pretend you’re a cat and meow — probably inspired by the farm cat neighbors we had in Italy and watching too much Daniel Tiger. I’m hoping that’s a phase that passes quickly.

I’m sure the anxiety at preschool will be a phase that passes quickly, too. I plan to take you to your second day of school on Friday. We’ll get donuts on the way to pre-funk. You’ll be on your own again for just a few hours, but don’t worry — I’ll come back for you. Grown-ups always come back.

Love always, Dad

Dear Matteo, 14 Months Old

Welcome back from Italy. 

We spent the better part of the last two days traveling back home from Puglia through Naples and Frankfurt. Way to stack up those passport stamps my little man!

You were quite the hit as we traveled across southern Italy. I think it was the hair that became bleached by Mediterranean sun. You attracted many older women to pinch your cheeks and say "bimbo!" and "bello!" A lot of people confused you and Eliza as "gemelli" (twins) when you sat in the double stroller. You're not quite as tall as her, but you're catching up enough to fool people that you're the same age. I assume our diet of carbs -- pizza and gelato in heavy rotation -- helped accelerate your growth spurt as it did mine at the waistband. 

Maybe it was the amount of time we got to spend together but I noticed some other big changes during trip. You continue to try out new words and emulate anything your sister does. A good influence is how you like books, especially the "Llama Llama" series. You crawl the books over to make a "read to me now" request. You are already trying to play soccer, perching up on a step and kicking wildly at the ball when it's at your dangling feet. You are brave with your climbing and wanting to sit on chairs and couches like a big kid. Unfortunately, that Italian tile is not very forgiving, and you got some bumps where your balance didn't match your ambition. 

You are so close to walking. You took a couple "trust fall" steps toward me this past week, but I can't count those as true first steps until you can make a connected, balanced stretch. 

All of that activity didn't make for a restful vacation for your Mom and I as we always had to be on watch. Sometimes we'd slow you down or remove you from a potential fall and you would react with a flare of anger -- hit, flail backward, or pull hair. I shaved my growing, impressive beard down in part because I was tired of you tugging on it in retribution. Also, I was looking scraggly and I need to look nice for your Mom. 

At times you had good reason to be grumpy. We took the long way getting to Italy due to flight delays. Our original itinerary of Seattle --> Frankfurt --> Naples expanded to Seattle --> Frankfurt --> Munich --> Bari --> Naples. That last leg from Bari to Naples was an unexpected three hour bus ride as thunderstorms kept us from landing in Naples. We were all exhausted and unhappy. We ran out of diapers and food. By the time we arrived in Naples, we surrendered to an airport hotel instead of continuing on to our apartment in Sorrento. It was a bumpy way to start the "vacation."

Of course, it was never meant to be a vacation. Traveling with kids as young as you and Eliza is more of an adventure in not knowing how you will adjust to your constantly new surroundings while not knowing exactly what's around the corner as your inexperienced guides. Add a splash of language barrier, and the combination makes for a cocktail of accomplishment, surprise and occasional frustration. We drank that up all trip.  

You also drank some sea water and ate a lot of sand. It happens. Better from the Adriatic and Mediterranean seas than Puget Sound.

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, 34 Months Old

Your artistry is coming to life. You've been spending more time wanting to color, dance, play instruments and sing.

Your favorite subject is mountains. You draw and color them and ask me to do the same. You like to build mountain installations out of pillows in the living room, always finishing the pillow pile with a white blanket on top to represent snow. You cannon-ball-jump into the pile always in the direction of Matteo for some collateral damage potential. 

But with that, you're also starting to understand the life of a struggling artist and the need to find work.

You started asking a couple weeks ago for a "Moana microphone." Your Mom and I realized this would be a good time to introduce the idea of chores and allowance so you can save up to buy the microphone. It's a little early for the financial concept, but you immediately tracked with it. If you help pick up toys each evening, we give you a dollar to put in your blue piggy bank. It's an excellent starting wage as your employers know cost of living in the Pacific Northwest is exploding. You get to put those earned dollars in your blue piggy bank and when you have enough money, you get to give us the money in exchange for the microphone. Your Mom and I are getting a little more help out of you as a result. You've nearly saved up the $10 with eyes on the prize. Win-win.   

You're not entirely forced to earn your own way yet. I just bought new strings for your Silver Surfer guitar and a flowery guitar strap so you can finally play guitar while standing and singing at your current microphone -- a 3-foot garden mister. You're singing a lot of songs but your favorite is "Shake It Off" by Taylor Swift. She's definitely your favorite musician to emulate, and you've grown confidence in your dance moves after watching her music videos.

Another more lucrative profession is also emerging: dentistry. You were never one of those kids that we had to push to brush teeth. You love brushing your teeth. You ask to brush your teeth. You insist on brushing your teeth every time you use the potty and wash your hands. We actually had to take the toothpaste away because you were going through a tube a week. We have yet to introduce flossing, so that will be the real test of your dental commitment. I'm loving the trend though. A good outcome is that you have a life of healthy teeth and avoid the crowns your Mom and I had to get this past year. A best outcome is that plus you get into some sort of dental career to help people who need the healthcare, and you'll surely have a steady income. Go big and become a dentist to take care of your old man, OK?

Your Mom also wanted me to add that your language is getting really complete with some cute mispronunciations, including "baffroom," "everybubby" and calling Matteo "bubs". You have also picked up your Mom's classic question, "Isn't that funny?" It's always funny.  

Love, Dad

Dear Matteo, 13 Months Old

Hooray! You finally got your helmet off!

It's been a trial the last couple months with how hot the summer has been and how little the helmet breathes being made of foam and hard plastic. The "vent" at the top wasn't doing much. As a result, your Mom and I were getting lax with keeping the helmet on. When you're going in and out of our kiddie pool and sweating otherwise, the helmet was sometimes wet and always stinky. So was your head. Eww.

The people at the helmet doctor (I forgot what their titles are) said the helmet improved your head shape well enough. You can have your future barber thank Mom and me when he's working on your fade. 

As I've mentioned before, it's a huge difference to see you with the helmet off. We can see your entire face and expressions. We also get to see your super blonde, thick hair. You are such a handsome little guy. 

In addition to seeing more of you, we're hearing more of you. You are chip off the old block and therefore a total motormouth. You constantly point at the world around you and baby talk. You're in constant conversation with yourself. You've also started to try and play with Eliza. You crawl after her while she shrieks to entice, and you two roughhouse on the "mountains" (stacks of couch pillows) she builds. Occasionally I have to save one of you from a twisted knee under a body or lack of oxygen under a pillow, but it's all in good fun. 

What was not fun was having to perform a Heimlich maneuver on you the other day when you choked on a cucumber. Your Mom has been a fan of "baby-led weaning," but you sure do like to play chubby bunny with food and cram as much in your mouth as you can and swallow without chewing much. Fortunately I was right there, recognized your surprise and struggle, yanked you out of the high chair, turned you around and popped you hard (sorry) in the back to shoot that cucumber son-of-a-bitch out of your airway.

Let's not do that again. Life is fragile. So are cucumbers. Chew them more. 

Love always, Dad