Dear Eliza, 48 Months Old

Happy birthday, 4-year-old kiddo!

You have been very excited for this particular birthday for weeks, in Christmas-countdown mode asking “how many sleeps” until your birthday. You put a lot of energy toward thinking about what presents you were hoping to receive, and you were motivated to practice writing if it could be a birthday list.

The last few years we’ve thrown you Oktoberfest themed birthday parties. This year you had your say and wanted a “unicorn princess” birthday party. We compromised to have an Oktoberfest-unicorn-princess party where you and Mom, and some of your friends dressed as princesses, and I wore my Oktoberfest garb. We had unicorn cookies, cupcakes, beer and pretzels. It was a wonderful mash-up.

You received a lot of great gifts this year, mostly arriving in pink packaging, including a doll crib, binoculars (high on your list) and unicorn PlayMobile set. The biggest hit has been a music device that combines a recording microphone, piano, drum tom and DJ wheel. You love to record your voice in strange, creepy tones and hear the playback. It reminds me of what I’ve been told about myself at your age, playing with an 80s-version microphone that could also had special voice effects. I used to put on shows standing on the fireplace mount. You’re not performing quite yet so maybe you’ll go the studio musician route.

Another shared passion of ours is photography and you pushed pretty darn hard for what equates to a Polaroid camera. “I want a camera that prints the photos on paper right away.” Very specific. We couldn’t break the bank for that breakable toy yet, but maybe soon.

Grammie and Popa are in town for your birthday. They are really great about being in town for your and Matteo’s birthdays these past years. This year, you two have given them a run for their money, acting like absolute animals and rarely listening or following direction from anyone. On top of that, there’s a cold going around the house that half of us have — Matteo got the worse of it — and that’s not helping moods.

I have the cold, but your Mom says I have a “man cold,” which is to say I over-exaggerate the symptoms. It’s hard to say who’s right when she doesn’t know how I feel! Back to sipping my tea.

These past few nights, as your Mom has had to spend more time getting Matteo settled into sleep, I’ve been on point with you, and I really enjoy the one-on-one time. You hustle me a bit to stay up late, usually claiming to be hungry, and I gladly oblige to talk to you about your day and what’s ahead tomorrow. You constantly surprise me with a sharp memory and bigger ideas than I expect out of a now-four-year-old. And when your excuse has expired — the bowl of Cheerios is empty or the book is over — you easily turn over to try sleeping without a complaint.

I am so glad to be your Dad and thrilled by the little person that you are. Your Mom and I entertain each other with the stories of what you do throughout the day because you are so smart, funny and interesting. With your birthday, we celebrate four years being parents together and we’re really proud of our partnership and the experience it’s been. Thank you for that.

Love always, Dad

Dear Matteo, 27 Months Old

“I’m Batman!” you say before springing from couch to couch.

I am surprised the husky delivery in your voice, as if you’ve seen the Christian Bale performances. You tumble out of your jump into a flip and land on your back. You don’t have a cape but wear an equally large grin.

These days have been all about stories and actions imitating superheroes and animals. Last night we pretended to be wolves on the bed. You dug into the pillows looking for food, and I occasionally mixed it up by fighting a bear and offering you dead bunnies to eat. You soon wanted to pretend to be a giraffe and eat tall leaves. Eliza wasn’t having it and wanted to be a moose instead, and you obliged. The entire animal kingdom is fair game.

You are equally imaginative and mischievous. We have to watch you a lot more than we did your sister at your age. Just earlier today you locked yourself in the bathroom, and when I unlocked it and came in you were sitting in the sink running hot water over your feet. That was a minor infraction. On other occasions these past weeks we’ve caught you eating lip balm and trying on lipstick and mascara, achieving the look of the Joker. You ate a whole tube of toothpaste one time. Both you and Eliza are obsessed with Altoids, so I’m not surprised you took to the minty flavor.

Speaking of personal care, you pretended to shave my face the other day with a wine opener. You had remarkably good coverage and had some good instinct to turn my head many direction to get a smooth shave.

In between these moments of imagination and sneaky behavior, you’re getting into more of a fall routine. You’re up early in the morning, usually before we’d like. As soon as you’re awake you’re talking, often trying to strike a deal to watch the morning news (compromise) or a kid show (preferred). You try to get naked as soon as possible and wrap up in a cozy blanket. You have strong preferences for that next-to-skin feeling. You started your “Twos” class with Teacher Judy at Curious by Nature, where Eliza also attended. You’re there twice a week for a few hours and making some new friends. Eliza started her half-day pre-kindergarten at St. Pats, so you get Mom all to yourself three days a week in the mornings! You’ve been waiting for this your whole life!

Whether at home or school, you’re getting to be fairly balanced in how you want to spend time. When you don’t get to watch a show, you can bounce between art, sports and reading. I like the balance. That’s how to go about life the right way.

Oh, and you’ve picked up a new sport: wrestling. As in, you wrestle with your sister constantly. Sometimes you’re pretending to be an animal, but you’re always acting like one. Who needs to visit a zoo when we’ve got you?

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, 47 Months Old

As is now commonplace, we went for a drive last week to get Matteo to sleep. Your Mom stayed home to get a workweek break.

You save all of your tough questions for me when Mom is out of sight. I get no lifeline. In this episode:

“How did God put me in Mom’s belly when I was a baby?” [Umm.]

“How does God make babies?” [Eek.]

“Who will I marry?” [Someone I approve, in 25+ years.]

“How does the sun go up and down?” [Orbits, duh.]

All of those question also required a lot of talking that didn’t help Matteo get to sleep. Daylight wasn’t on my side either. I decided to drive to the Point Defiance rose garden and let you guys run around to burn any remaining energy.

The game of tag was memorable. I was always “it.” You ran with an urgency, and Matteo tried to keep up in oversized Crocs that he eventually abandoned. The two of you were like unevenly matched race horses. All bets were on you, and you squealed with delight as you enjoyed the constant win. The evening light was perfect and all roses were in full bloom as you two shot in and out of the rows of reds, pinks, oranges and yellows. We spent nearly half an hour running around when I finally saw Matteo concede some yawns. The timing was about right as the day looked more like night and we jumped back in the car to finally successful sleep.

I was off to Toronto the next day for my first time attending the Toronto Film Festival. I saw a few celebrities. Ask me to relay their names when you read this and we’ll see who I can recall and which of those mean anything to you. It’s tough leaving you guys and your Mom, so that run around the rose garden was especially important to me in the moment. When I came back from Toronto, you said I was gone a long time, which is totally true in kid years. You’ve only lived 47 months, so four days gone is relatively long.

I took you to school the day after my work trip. I should mention that you just started Pre-K at St. Patrick’s down the street. You look friggin adorable in your plaid jumper uniform. I melt. It’s one of those kid looks, and there are a few, that I will keep in my mental time capsule. You had a tough time at that school drop off, a combination of the still-new school, me dropping you off instead of Mom, and my coming off a work trip. Your teacher, Mrs. Lindell, had to peel you off me like a Fruit Roll-Up. That was as tough on you as it was me.

Life is going to create peels that pull us apart a little more often than we want, but to create some necessary independence for you to grow into your own person. I think that’s tolerable so long as we get to enjoy evening great races in between.

Love, Dad

Dear Matteo, 26 Months Old

We just came off our one and only camping trip of the season.

Your Mom and I have been intimidated by the idea of camping with you and Eliza most of the summer and cancelled a trip to the San Juans, planned in the naivete of last winter. Because sleeping in our home has been so inconsistent, we’ve felt assured that sleep would be non-existent in the confines and excitement of a tent.

The camping wasn’t glamorous but wasn’t bad either, simply functional. We stayed at a property outside of Arlington to crash before your cousin Winnie’s first birthday party the next day in La Conner. You and Eliza actually slept OK. We were disarmed, however, by fireworks after dark that threw Greta into a shaky mess. We gave her some now-legal animal CBD to help calm her down but lost an hour of sleep between events.

We dodged most potential camp site dangers — poison oak, s’more stick pokes, campfire burns — but couldn’t escape a freak camp chair accident that almost took out your right eye. While I was getting the camp stove going I heard a bloody scream from directly behind me. When I turned, I saw you holding your eye and saw the frame of the camp chair and s’more sticks. I immediately assumed you poked your eye with stick. Not good. After you calmed down I took a closer look at your eye and was relieved to see it was fine. But your eyelid… It had two sharp cuts. I couldn’t figure it out. Your Mom took a look, checked back at the evidence and resolved that you somehow pinched your eyelid between the camp chair frame pieces, held together by elastic bungee cord. I still can’t figure out how you accomplished that. The physics don’t work out.

This is par for course though. We’ve sent Eliza and then you to the emergency room the previous two successive weeks. Eliza earned the trip from pulling a large shoe rack down on her ankle. It looked obliterated by the color and swelling but fortunately nothing was broken and she came back from the hospital with a stuffed cat. That was one expensive stuffed cat.

You earned the trip after falling on your face out on the back patio and putting a nail-head-size hole in your forehead. The doctor didn’t need to put a suture in but used a steri-strip to do the job. You also took a good shot to the nose but didn’t break it. The scab looked like you had a constant bloody nose, which would have worked out great if it happened closer to Halloween to pull off an authentic version of Eleven from Stranger Things.

So now you’ve got a purple eye and fast-healing scabs on your forehead and nose. You’re the definition of an accident-prone, two-year-old boy. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, 46 Months Old

We are hanging out at Lake Chelan for a week of vacation! This will become a familiar place as you grow up because your Grandma Vicki and Poppa Steve bought land to build a house here. Until the house is built, we stay at their time share condo at Lake Chelan Shores overlooking a pool and the lake. You are very lucky!

All of your spring and summer swim lessons have paid off as you can swim confidently in the pool and lake. You practice swimming in the pool without a life jacket and spend a lot more time underwater, enticed by what you can see with goggles on. Yesterday we were out on Poppa Steve’s boat on the lake and you didn’t hesitate to jump into to the not-too-cold water with us. As you swam with goggles, you popped up to tell us what you could see in the clear water: the occasional passing fish.

Lake Chelan is truly a world-class lake. I’ve seen a lot of them and Lake Como in Italy only has the upper hand on food. Like in Italy, the local wine here is truly good and you’ll come to appreciate that in 14 years.

In between the pool, lake and wineries, you and Matteo keep us busy and entertained. In the condo you like to build structures out of Magna-Tiles that Matteo eventually knocks over. You made up a new game called “Magic.” You move your hands in a circular motion like Elsa from “Frozen” and make imaginary objects. When you’re out of magic, you sometimes complain that your stomach hurts because your “baby is kicking.” You ask us to hold your stomach while you move it in and out quickly, trying to simulate baby kicks but looking a lot more like a belly dancer.

With all of the excitement and swimming in the day, you and Matteo have been napping and therefore making for late nights. If we see no sign of sleep by 9 p.m., your Mom and I throw you two in the car and start driving a direction until one of you falls asleep — usually Matteo. As we climb the hills, we listen to the classic hits radio station quietly. The lake is lit by the moon like a flashlight and the calm sets in. We’ll do it all again tomorrow.

Love, Dad