Dear Eliza, 38 Months Old

I am quarantined in my bedroom, trying to keep you, Matteo and your Mom from catching the flu. I’m catching up on a lot of great TV, but it’s a little isolating. I think you and Matteo are a little confused about why I’m home so much during the week and why you can’t see me. Sorry, kiddo. When future-you reads this, let it be a reminder to get your flu shot!

Your have been operating on some polar extremes these past few weeks. You’ve found a way to act and talk very sweet (most of the time), and it’s manifested in your sudden obsession with ballet. You’re tip-toeing all over the house and showing some poise as you pretend to be Clara from The Nutcracker, which you saw when we were in Indiana. You invented an imaginary partner to dance with, who you’ve dubbed, “Ballet Boy.” Very intuitive.

You’ve also asked us on random occasion to hold hands and pray to God, mimicking your Papa Steve at Thanksgiving. I get my regular fix of praying in private and have embraced your curiosity, helping to recite some short, thankful prayers. We do have a lot to be thankful for.

Sometimes you don’t seem so appreciative. You’ve thrown some extreme tantrums and reached new volumes of screaming that only accelerate my inevitable deafness. Usually you’re upset about wanting to watch a movie or just tired. You’ve chosen to express a lot of your frustrations at Matteo, which is NOT OK. He will eventually reach your size, gain some coordination and get his turns, but while the competition is largely imbalanced I have a problem with it. In particular, you started pulling hair and scratching at his face. He looks like he’s been attacked by a cat. You are not a cat. You’re Eliza. And I know you’re doing a lot of growing and there’s a lot of new energy that has to go some place, but let’s work on channeling it differently, OK?

Here’s a prayer for you that’s a slight adjustment from the prayer I say with you and your brother at night:

“Dear God, thank you for our family and friends in Washington, Indiana and everywhere in between. Thank you for Amanda who is the best Mom ever. We pray that Eliza and Matteo become smart, healthy, happy people. [New addition to prayer:] And we pray that they find ways to manage their emotions without scratching or pulling hair because Santa is watching. Amen.”

Love, Dad

Dear Matteo, 17 Months Old

I am enjoying a “Dada” phase, and I love the attention!

In the mornings, you look for me first and alternate calling “dada and “baba” (bottle). During the day you’re glued to one of my legs. At night, you collapse into my lap when you’re ready to wind down. I don’t think your Mom is bothered by playing second fiddle, *yet*.

We’re in Indiana right now visiting your Mom’s family, which means you’re getting a lot more face-time IRL instead of FaceTime app. I’m enjoying your nearly-constant baby rambling around the house. You talk about eating most of the time and wanting to watch “Moana.” You found a Santa figurine, “tanta,” in the entryway that you like to speak with in private like a Christmas confidant.

You are a rambunctious little guy on this trip and expressing it through a lot of tackling (me and Eliza) and climbing any furniture in sight. You might still be wired from the Altoids you snuck yesterday behind the couch to get a mint high.

You’re entertaining your Grammie and Popa with all the action and energy, but also proving your stamina against instruction. Your favorite toddler vice is climbing to the very top of the recliner couch, tempting fate, and giggling when your grandparents, Mom, or I try to persuade you to gently slide down to safety. Our commands have ranged from “Matteo, what are you doing?” to “Sit your ass down!” I’m sure Popa will be taking consecutive long naps to recover from this onslaught after we depart tomorrow.

I know this attached-to-me-daredevil phase is just that, but I hope it lasts a bit longer because I am enjoying being your partner in household adventures and crime. And your Mom will have to deal with being second-favorite a little longer!

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, 37 Months Old

You can be the most talkative person in my life on a given day, but over the last few weeks you’ve become a bit tongue-tied.

You struggle to get out words that begin with “wh,” the start of your many questions. You’re often able to get the sentence going after 4-8 stutters on the first word. It’s too early to tell if you are developing a lasting stutter, but there’s certainly a “vocabulary burst” where your mouth seems to get stuck behind your thoughts since you are learning so many new words and building your vocabulary. Your buddy Bridger had a similar challenge.

You’ve been a good sport but must be frustrated at times. Even if it takes you a little longer to get your words out, I’m still excited about what you have to say next.

Your Mom relayed a story that at preschool you tried to tell her the name of your new friend, Grant. But you couldn’t get the words out and gave up. “I can’t say it,” you finally stated, confused.

I felt the same way your Mom looked when she told me about the occurrence. It’s a little heart-breaking to see you go through this phase. I can relate. I had my own talking-out-loud issue that didn’t show up until high school.

And then there will be times when something is simply too over-stimulating and exciting that you can’t get a word out. That happens to everyone. You experienced this when your Mom and Aunt Courtney surprised you with a “Disney on Ice” date a couple weeks ago. There were too many princesses and too much ice skating for any young mind to process that kind of life-altering event. If you weren’t hooked on princesses, ice skating and ballet, you sure as hell are now. We’re doing a lot of ballet dancing around the house.

Of course, you can’t dance without commanding my every dance move, too. There’s no hesitation in your marching, ahem, tip-toeing orders. Funny how that works.

Love always, Dad

Dear Matteo, 16 Months Old

Today we got in a boys’ day running errands at the hardware store and rebuilding some garage shelves (I did the building while you did the napping). Typical father-son stuff. You rode in the hiking backpack at Home Depot and squealed every time you saw a dog in the store. It was always the same dog, but who’s counting?

You’re fighting sleep in the other room as I’m typing. You’ve had a tough time settling down these last few nights. You were in a good routine, downing a couple almond milk bottles and happily crashing. Some early evenings you would come to me or your Mom with Rocky in hand (your favorite stuffed animal, a raccoon a.k.a. trash panda) and say “Night night” or “Ba ba,” both indicating you were ready for the night routine. Maybe it’s the molars coming through or another phase because the days of your self-selection to sleep seem to be over.

You’ve become more opinionated, correlating with growing two-syllable vocabulary to make your points. For example, yesterday you asked for food and I offered you a banana. You usually love bananas and initially indicated you wanted one. When I handed it to over you immediately said “No no!,” chucked it across the room and gave me an angry face before stomping off mumbling some baby-talk complaint. You became all Gorden Ramsay in the kitchen. You gave me a 1-star Yelp review. I enjoyed the act and moved onto successfully offering you RItz crackers in my servitude.

I don’t know how else to describe it, but you turned a corner from taking anything given to you — food, clothes, even shoes to deciding whether or not you like it. You were very disappointed in my shoe selection the other day after making you wear real shoes instead of Crocs on a rainy day. Never mind that you were only wearing a diaper with those shoes because you wanted to wear nothing else. So you ran around the house in high-tops and a diaper for most of the morning.

It may sound like I’m complaining. I’m not. I’m truly enjoying it! Your mannerisms are becoming more pronounced and it’s all so entertaining. You’re also a really smiley kid and just like to laugh, so these examples are the exceptions of the day.

When Eliza gets frustrated with you and pushes you around, you think it’s all fun. You constantly want to name people in pictures, flip through books and play hide and seek. You haven’t figured out that the seeker needs to stay in place while the hider hides, so I just run really fast ahead of you to hide. That will work while I’m still faster on the move, but I don’t expect it will last long. You’re nearly able to run and have a little jog-strut thing going.

I think you’re finally asleep in your room and I’m ready to turn-in myself. I’ve had a bit of a cold this week and the drugs are kicking in.

I look forward to playing more tomorrow.

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, 36 Months Old

Hey there, THREE-YEAR-OLD!

I have to admit my eyes leaked a bit last night as I was tucked you into bed. I thought about the time we won’t get back in this stage that I’ve really come to enjoy. I’ve also realized that while things don’t actually change overnight, in hindsight they sort of feel that way.

Stop growing, stop right now… Nah, keep going. It’ll be fun to see the next stage of parenting you lead us into.

You are already looking way ahead. You mentioned several times these past days what the future looks like: “I am going to be a woman when I grow up. I will have a baby. I am going to be really, really tall and have long, black hair like Mommy.” That sounds like a good game plan to me.

You’re on your way to growing up. In just weeks, you went from crying for us at your new outdoor preschool, nervous about your new teachers and surroundings, to asking to stay when we pick you up. That’s some fast adjustment. You are improving your dance moves around the house, often in a somewhat restrictive Frozen character ballgown. You often request to go by the name of whatever Disney character you’re dressed as. When you play with your friends, you love to imagine and get occasionally demanding that they stay on track with the story in your head.

I appreciate the moments of articulate English, even if shouting orders. In contrast, the last couple weeks have been more like baby talk… and potty-training regression. Not good. You’re clearly seeking attention and working through some sibling jealousy. How do I know it’s sibling jealousy? The hip-checks and outright shoving of your barely-walking little brother are key indicators. So are the mimicked baby behaviors well beneath you.

Here’s the thing, you’re not ignored. You’re on our minds. We see you when you’re not looking. (We know when you’re awake.) We talk about you when you’re not close enough to listen. You have our attention constantly, even though it’s sometimes shared. You are loved, my kiddo!

Happy birthday. You’ve been practicing holding up three fingers to show people how old you are, and now you can declare it to the world: “I’m three!”

Love always, Dad