Dear Matteo, 19 Months Old

It’s a snow day in Tacoma!

I remember being a kid this time of year and watching with excitement the local news broadcasts forecasting snow. It didn’t happen often, but it dominated the programming when it did. I remember a lot of Steve Pool and Rich Marriott segments in those years. I could hardly sleep and would constantly get up through the night to look out the window and see if the snow fell yet. Sometimes it did, sometimes it never did. It’s a tough job accurately predicting Pacific Northwest winter weather and snow levels. Sometimes without any previous news hype I would wake up to a snow day. That surprise was best of all and seemed to result in the best snow. That’s what this morning felt like.

We only had a few inches on the ground but that was plenty for you and Eliza to sled, build snowmen and fall backward into snow angels. You had such a blast shuffling across the yard. We took a walk to Bluebeard where you dropped me off for a remote workday. The wind was blowing so the conditions felt a little more arctic than ideal, but it was nothing a donut and hot chocolate couldn’t solve.

On your way back home you waved “Bye Daddy!” — one of the many phrases coming into your vocabulary. You can say everyone’s name now, especially “Liza!” You can say many food words (because you constantly want to eat). You spend a little time each day reading books out loud to yourself, which is heart-melting to watch. Cooling that heart, you scream as loud as possible when you’re frustrated or we misunderstand your words. We need to work on a little patience there. In between those outbursts you are a sweet kid and love to especially cuddle your mom and hold hands.

On non-snow days, your motto is “Ball is life” as you constantly have a ball in your hand or at your feet. Your favorite game right now, indoors and outdoors, is holding a ball high above your head and then throwing it forward to run at it and take a swing with that big left foot. Most of the time you gracefully connect the strike. It’s purely athletic and a perfect combination of your Mom’s throwing arm and your Dad’s footwork. And sometimes you take a big whiff and fall solidly on your butt without embarrassment and the immediate willingness to get up and try again. That’s the best of both of us, which is basically… you.

We’ve got more winter ahead and we’ll get more days in at home to play (ball) in the snow and try to get you up on skis in the mountains, if only for the photos. After that, spring is upon us and we’ll get you in some toddler soccer league. Something tells me you’ll be a multi-sport threat. Although skiing is my new favorite sport, soccer was my first. Ball is life.

Love always,

Dad

Dear Eliza, 39 Months Old

Last night we hunted for treasure. I didn’t know what the treasure was, but was along for the ride to find out. Your Mom drew up a map that included climbing a tree, swimming across a pond, jumping over rocks and building a house — all within the confines of our small living room.

We imagined and acted our way through all of those tasks within minutes. The treasure was an imaginary photo of you and Matteo, you told me. We pretended to hang the photos on the wall nearby.

The night prior we pretended to be elephants. We crawled around the upstairs playroom looking for food. Matteo occasionally rode my back like embarking on an Indian safari. Your elephant name was “Ooo Ooo,” and you pretended to be an infant elephant. Whenever I would “trumpet” loudly, you would let out a higher-pitched, quieter squeal to match. You pretended that I had elephant milk and wanted to nurse, which was a little over-the-top because, you know, I don’t have that kind of equipment.

This kind of imaginative play has been off the charts. You almost constantly imagine something happening around us and tell us so. Your Mom and I rarely get a word in because you’re talking so much, providing so much detail and describing the action happening we can’t see.

You do dip back into the real world occasionally. I dropped you off at pre-school this morning — a treat for me — and confidently walked into the classroom, greeted your friends and started crafting. You didn’t bother to say goodbye when I dropped you off. As you know, grown-ups come back. I picked you up a few hours later. After some polite chit-chat about our respective school and work days, you jumped right back into telling me about how your imaginary baby needed to put on her seat belt in the car.

Keep thinking big and dreaming big. That’s what’s it’s all about. Fasten your seat belt, and hers.

Love, Dad

Dear Matteo, 18 Months Old

You achieved the definition of a “goose egg” on your forehead tonight.

Your Mom and I didn’t see it happen (at least we’re not helicopter parents!) but you somehow slipped and banged your head into the corner of a wall. Your Mom is a pro and immediately put some ice on it while I distracted you with an episode of “Elmo’s World” on my phone. Eliza got the best deal out of the whole thing because she also enjoyed the episode, injury-free.

Your personality continues to blossom. You have the biggest, gaping smile when things go your way and especially in reaction to the theme song of “Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood.” When things don’t go your way you project high-pitched screeches and furrow your brow. When you do something wrong you have a two-step apology: you say “hi” softly as if talking to a baby and then follow-up with a kiss.

You want to be in on all the action around the house. You don’t let your height stop you and carry a step stool around the house to reach sinks and counter-tops. You no longer want to use a high chair. Instead you prefer to stand on a dining chair. You’ve only fallen off a couple times. You’ve mastered the water dispenser and like to take the water and pour it into Greta’s water bowl over and over.

You can say just about any two-syllable word we test you with. Your favorite word right now is “ucky” for garbage and slimy foods, like mushrooms, and like to throw things away in the garbage at any chance. You also now tell us when you poop but somehow we’re the only ones that say “ucky” when that happens.

Thankfully you haven’t given up all of your baby behaviors yet. You still like to cuddle on a lap to watch TV or look at a book and generally like to be held and perch on a hip when we have company. I think we’re weeks away from those fading into memory so we’re enjoying the last of these moments.

You joined me for a ski day in my kid carrier backpack last weekend. I think we had a misunderstanding. I said we were going “skiing.” You must have heard we were going “squealing” because you squealed like a piglet in my ear for a half an hour. You accelerated my hearing loss by years in those minutes.

You’re totally attached to your Mom right now and let me know it on that bunny hill. You have an internal alarm when she’s more than 50 feet away and that alarm does not turn off until she’s back in range. She has the same challenges with trying to turn you over to childcare at the gym. You last about 15 minutes, or I should say the staff puts up with your for 15 minutes, before she’s paged to recover you.

I get it. She’s your whole world, but you have to play it cool. You want her to keep saving you from the next goose egg, right?

Love, Dad

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