Dear Eliza, 56 Months Old

There’s a cliche scene that repeats itself over and over in movies and television: a young child sits in vain at the dinner table and vehemently refuses to eat, acting as if the presence of lovingly prepared food presents some danger or peril. The child’s parents suffer through the frustration.

My favorite interpretation of this cliche is in “A Christmas Story.” The younger brother, Randy, won’t eat his food. His mother creatively acts him to eat like a pig. He indulges by slamming his face into the mashed potatoes and meat. The family shares a good laugh about it, except the father who is not at all entertained by the short moment of harmony.

My least favorite interpretation is yours these past weeks and months. Most days it’s a struggle to pull you from your art or imaginative play to get to the table, and we can deal with that. The problem is that you spend most of the entire dinner complaining about what’s in front of you, unless it’s a curry or can be solved in flavor with Trader Joe’s Soyaki sauce or Chik-Fil-A sauce. You make loud-enough sounds of displeasure as you eat or in between the debates for how much more you need to eat to earn dessert.

It’s death by a thousand whines and it’s quite exhausting.

I think your Mom and I do a good job taking turns and enforcing the calorie intake, but it doesn’t make for a relaxing dinner or enjoyable company. The fact that we’ve only shared meals most of the last three months as an immediate family adds some stress to the scenario, but your Mom and I decided long ago that we eat as a family. We will always break bread together with no screens and no distractions. It might be the only time of the day that occurs for any of us, which makes it so important.

You can be a good eater at any other hour. You usually eat a good breakfast, and lunches are a mixed bag. You are always down for a bowl of Cheerios, especially late in the evening — a result of not eating well at dinnertime, usually. For some reason, you are just not motivated by the ritual of dinner. I know you will be. It’s a phase. Teenagers eat. They actually eat quite a lot, and by then I’ll ask you and Matteo to eat less to help with a skyrocketing grocery bill.

We also pray before dinner as a family. We picked up the habit from your school and the pre-snack prayer you learned there. Matteo still doesn’t have all the hand gestures down, and you two interrupt through the prayer to remind us that we can fold our hands in several combinations. Still, I think it’s good that we pray together and eat together if only so that you see your Mom and I modeling the behavior.

And I personally need the prayer to ask patience so that you eat the food on your plate, so help me God.

Love,
Dad

Dear Matteo, 35 Months Old

“Jesus Grievous!” you say in a menacing voice, ready to spar.

That’s what I get when we read Star Wars books and children’s biblical stories on the same day.

You’ve been intensely interested in Star Wars these past weeks — since discovering Lego Star Wars shows — and less interested in God and life’s bigger questions, though Star Wars fanatics would argue the two are intertwined. In addition to watching the shows on Disney+ (America’s cheapest babysitter), we bought you four Star Wars books that you devour and practically read yourself. You’ve memorized every character in the books, including some trivia-quality references like Jango Fett and Nien Numb. I’ve always been a fan myself but am learning about the deeper universe with you.

As summer weather hits, Star Wars follows us outside. We’ve turned Whiffle ball bats into lightsabers. You like to play “nice” Darth Vader and I play Obi-Wan Kenobi in battle. To begin each round of lancing, you run around the backyard tent, surprise me with your presence and somersault into action. Each fight round lasts about 10 seconds of you swinging violently at me before you run around the tent again. We do this 20 to 30 times per fight session. I end up with a couple light bruises, but it’s all in good fun.

That’s nothing compared to the real fight happening on the streets of America right now. Since the death of George Floyd and delayed recognition of Breonna Taylor due to COVID-19, the Black community and allies have erupted with peaceful protests. Some have turned violent or been taken advantage of by looters. These are difficult circumstances to explain to a young mind, so we simply tell you that Black people have been hurt because of the color of their skin, and that’s not OK. We stop short at systemic racism, redlining, police brutality and misconduct, mass incarceration and a lot other dynamics that are complicated. Your Mom and I are still trying to process them ourselves.

Not everyone agrees on the big picture or details for how to address the problems the Black community faces. It’s an American problem and an American process through and through. What we can do is show support for our Black friends and community by joining them in saying, “Black Lives Matter.” This past weekend, we joined a peaceful protest in our neighborhood, among the hundreds of neighborhoods doing the same thing across America. I know the least your Mom and I can do is raise white children to be tolerant, educated and empathetic. That’s why we brought you to the protest to witness firsthand at your young age the suffering Black people feel. It will be up to you later in life to continue that education, ensure that you’re surrounding yourself with people from all sorts of backgrounds and act on your own will when you feel our voice should be heard. I trust you’ll know when to act.

Love always, Dad

Dear Eliza, 55 Months Old

As we get into late spring and nature blooms around our home, you’ve grown a fear of… bugs.

There tends to be a lot of bugs that emerge now — flies, bees, ants, butterflies, spiders, dragonflies. You get the idea. And you seem to be afraid of most of them. You’ll be outside on a swing or playing with bubbles and suddenly you’ll yell “bugs!” and run inside as quick as you can, peering back out the window to see if we’ve done something about the situation. We usually don’t. You’ll learn to get over your “entomophobia,” which you can impressively pronounce.

This is all the opposite of Matteo who proactively spends time looking for bugs but especially gooey slugs and snails. Boys will be boys.

Thankfully your fears are limited to bugs because you’re very, very interested in animals and certifiably obsessed with kittens. My God, we have talked about kittens for hours and hours now. I think you literally put yourself to sleep thinking about kittens. You’ll talk about what you’ll name kittens and how you’ll raise them and sleep with them and cuddle them. You’ll play veterinarian and specialize in cats, though you insist you’ll treat a range of animals, including turtles and even people. I like the career pathing in your mind, so I encourage the behavior.

I remind you that kittens grow into cats, and you rebut that you’ll just get another kitten. That logic is the very reason why we are not getting a kitten anytime soon. A lot of families have been getting “quarantine pets” given all the time spent at home. We’re not quite there yet with the temptation of a kitten. Before you came along we had an awesome cat, Fabrizio, and we loved that cat but I want to make sure you can love a cat beyond its kitten stage. We also need to make sure both you and Matteo are a little older so you don’t literally squeeze-with-love a kitten to death. When the time for a cat comes, we will also need to keep an eye on Greta as she has become quite the cat-chaser. We need harmony in our household, not a food chain.

On a related note, we had a close call last month with the family beta fish, Rhubarb. Your Mom changed the tank water and filled it high. At some point that evening, Rhubarb got curious or suicidal and jumped out of the tank. Your Mom found him on the kitchen counter and had no idea how long he’d been out of the water. He looked dead. She scooped him up and put him back in the tank. He showed some signs of life but we thought he was a goner. After a day of inactive behavior he really came back to life. We are truly in shock he’s alive as fish don’t make it long anyway. I’m not sure how to take that event as a sign, but it’s a reminder of why we have pet insurance for Greta.

Until we get a new furry friend, your Mom and I will gladly take all the cuddles (and hand-holding) you have to give. In fact, that may be the most honest as to why you’re stuck without a new pet for awhile. We’d prefer the affection our way while we can get it.

Love, Dad

Dear Matteo, 34 Months Old

We are slowly re-opening society after weeks of stay-at-home orders. We’ll see how that goes. People are still getting sick, and we will certainly take caution about how many places we go and people we see. It will be nice to see family and friends again in-person and get outside in more places other than our corner lot of Tacoma.

In spite of the quarantine and only seeing friends and family over screens, your imagination is making up for the lack of IRL interaction and daily variety. You’ve invented a whole world in your head.

The world is mostly blue, in color not sentiment. You’ve started to tell us that you live in a blue house. You also have a blue cabin in the mountains, where you like to pick blueberries, and a blue condo, which I assume has a blue water view. You own a blue truck.

In that imaginary life you have another dad, Gata, and mom, Gida. They sound a little like your real Mom and Dad. They both wear glasses. The other day when I was “frustrated” that you slammed our yard gate into Greta on purpose, you later told me that Gata was frustrated. To change the mood, I asked if Gata is notoriously handsome. You didn’t reply. Ouch.

I’ve said it before, but the upside of these stay-at-home orders is seeing each other so much. I get to watch you grow every single day where previously there were days that I wouldn’t see you because of schedule and travel. I don’t take the time for granted at all. I think we have a better relationship and enjoy each other’s time even more. You’ve also chosen me to be your preferred ass wiper. You are probably the most “regular” kid on the planet, pooping four to five times daily. With each occurrence you yell loudly for as long as it takes to have me help you wipe. You have relieved, no, forbidden your mother of this duty for some reason. When she tries to help, you tell her to go away and find me. Your Mom, of course, is enjoying this favoritism, and you and I are bonding now in a different kind of way.

Good job with all the potty training though. Now we just need you to start wearing your underwear the right way. You like to wear it backwards to see all the characters that decorate your little boy underwear: Captain America, Spider-Man, The Hulk, Captain Marvel, etc. That leaves a lot of room for your junk where your butt is supposed to be and a close-to-thong-like affect on your backside. Your choice, little man.

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, 54 Months Old

Well, we’re still in quarantine. It’s been long enough that this is now normal. The days all blur together. There are no weekdays or weekends. Tom Hanks (who was among the first celebrities to get and recover from Covid-19) hosted an “at home” SNL and in his monologue said something like: “There is no Saturday, there is just today. And tomorrow will also be today.” That sounds about right.

You and your brother have been incredibly resilient and adapted to our new normal much better than your Mom or me. Your school time is now a Zoom meeting with a dozen or so other wild children and a teacher reading to you all, likely with her own volume off to help pretend that you’re listening. We trade Marco Polo videos with family members. Of course, your quarantine coping mechanism is art. That is a wise choice and much healthier than your Mom and my choice of drinking more — though we are also running more. Trade offs. I honestly don’t know how your art can improve so much and so rapidly without any instruction. Sometimes you disappear in a room and an hour later come out with pages of drawings. Your quarantine series is an impressive volume.

In the 5,000 square foot world of our home and yard you’ve also found more of your leadership voice with few dissenters. You more often take the lead on what game you want to play and you give marching orders to Matteo constantly. If he interprets a game or imaginary play different than what’s in his head, you are quick to correct him. He can’t read your mind so I’d say you are a little tough on him, general. Though he’s not your only target. Just as often, you correct my every move down to which way I swing my arms when I pretend to be an animal or what my posture should be when pretending to be a tree. There’s no improvisation allowed in your games. I’ve been quick to remind you that everyone can play how they like, though you contest that your way is the better way.

Matteo seems to be OK with taking your orders, but i think that has something to do with how you know how to use the TV remote now. With great power comes great responsibility. It’s amazing what people are willing to do when they’re dependent upon someone else for a key life source, like TV. I suppose as long as you hold that high ground, you’ll get what you want there.

Through this era of quarantine, it’s been fun to see you so much more than when we had weekdays and weekends. Even in seeing you so often, I notice how much you’re growing intellectually, emotionally and physically. For some funny reason you like to compare our foot sizes as a way to prove to me your growing. You most certainly are.

Love, Dad