Dear Matteo, 56 Months Old

I bought something big for the family that you’re quite excited about.

This is unlike the real estate moves of the past year that were big but responsible. This purchase is definitionally a “pandemic purchase:” random, luxorious, close-to-home.

Yes, I purchased a barrel sauna.

Hear me out. We’ve been talking seriously about getting a hot tub for months. Those are popular, expected and appealing. They even contribute home resale value. However, they’re totally energy inefficient and your Mom sometimes has a reaction to the chemicals. I did a little research (mere hours over mere days) and found barrel saunas are less expensive and far more energy efficient. They have well known health benefits. Saunas are as common as cars in Finland, and the life expectancy there is three years more than in the U.S. It all makes so much sense, right?

The above paragraph again points to overly enthusiastic, slightly irrational pandemic purchase behavior.

Well, I made the purchase and built the thing, so there’s no going back now.

The “Almost Heaven Huntington Sauna” arrived on a flat bed from West Virginia a couple weeks ago. I was shocked and impressed to see a dualie Dodge Ram truck arrive in front ofthe house well ahead of schedule having crossed over every mountain pass in America in the dead of winter. I helped unload the pre-fab materials and took the next sunny weekend to construct the sauna. It came together like a large Lego project, which is to say it took me two hours longer than expected, and the right side of the barrel came apart on me three times as I neared completion.

The sauna seats six (I’d say four adults with room for the Holy Spirit) and aesthetically looks awesome. Your Mom and I added a green metal roof for weather and flair. The electrician comes over tomorrow and then we should be able to fire it up!

You’ve been a big help putting the sauna together, offering to hammer anything in sight. The concept of the sauna has been a little confusing to you along the way though.

“It warms you up like a hot tub,” I explain.

“But can I swim in it?” you reply.

“No, there’s no water,” I say.

“Then why do I have to wear a bathing suit?”

Good question.

Once you get into the functioning sauna, it will all click and I trust we’ll get daily use out of it. You’re a cold-blooded animal and love to warm up by any blanket, heater or sun source available to you.

We’re almost nearing the end of the pandemic. What a perfect time to take off the mask, put on your bathing suit and warm up. Let’s get started before life returns back to normal and I have to reconcile why I have a big, immovable barrel in the backyard.

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, 76 Months Old

If I had any concern about your embrace of Italian-American culture, I have to look no further than Nutella.

You are on your way to becoming a spokesperson for the beloved hazelnut cocoa spread. You demand Nutella pancakes most mornings and some evenings. You prefer to spread Nutella yourself to ensure you have a heavy, frosting-like layer and don’t get stiffed on the thickness, which you examine at eye-level for approval.

Before Nutella, we were concerned that you ate enough most days. At infant and toddler stages you had a limitless palate. We bragged to other parents about the curries and exotic foods we could feed you. That has since diminished in these preschool and kinder years as you’ve become the pickiest of eaters. You’ll not only demand a pesto sauce over a marinara sauce on a pizza, but you’ll side-eye us if the pesto is of a certain green hue that doesn’t look like the usual brand. On the increasingly rare occasion you like the food put in front of you, you’ll take an extensive amount of time finishing a meal. You’re not a slow eater, just distracted and almost forgetful that you have food to eat.

Nutella is the antidote for the mealtime pains. You’ll eat buckets of the stuff if we gave you the chance. You’re willing to help cook the pancakes, knowing it inches you closer to Nutella. You eat quick and messy, not like the bird we dine with in the evenings. After a Nutella pancake meal we have to send you straight to the sink because your face and hands are covered. You look almost crazed, likely a side effect of the sugar.

I wrote in Matteo’s letter about how we got a new kitten, Luna. There’s a good chance that if she were brown, instead of grey, we’d name her Nutella. But then we’d just hear you ask for Nutella that much more.

We have no worries about your caloric intake now that Nutella is in the cupboad. I was silly to have bought a normal size container the first time. Now it’s on the Costco shopping list to buy by the mega pair, along with the right pesto.

Love,
Dad

Dear Matteo, 55 Months Old

Your consistent lobbying paid off. We finally got a kitten.

You give and get plenty of love from Greta, but you’ve focused so much of your attention and energy toward kittens these past months. Eliza has had her heart in the same place. Both of you pretend to be kittens and like to draw kittens. You pled for kittens in key documents like Christmas and birthday lists. Your Mom and I tried the classic parenting move of just giving you stuffed kittens on special occassions. You’d play with them a short time but could never wear off the need for the real thing and return to highlighting the family deficit.

A trip up to Bellingham a couple of months ago sealed the deal and sold your Mom and me on the idea.

Luna Snowball was born on Black Friday (also known as OptOutside day in this household) at Aunt Nina’s friend’s house, who we went to visit shortly thereafter. The pack of baby kittens was overwhelming for you and Eliza. You couldn’t stop swooning and making “awww!” sounds for the duration of the visit. They had sharp claws and hung on our puffy jackets, which I didn’t love (hello, down leakage), but as an animal person I had little defense. Awww!

We tried to surprise you on a trip back up to Bellingham to pick up Luna but, like so many things, we were thwarted by COVID-19, which Aunt Nina contracted. We think Winnie did too as she had a high fever. Of course, we learned all of this when we had already made the two hour drive to Bellingham. Instead of going to see your cousins for a long weekend and enjoy the big unveiling with everyone around, we called an audible to make the roundtrip and return that night.

You and Eliza thought the trip was just about a sleepover with cousins, which caused confusion about why we came all the way up to Bellingham just to turn around. We had to lead you on to keep the peace, so we went to a restaurant for dinner and let you know we had a big surprise. Eliza loves guessing suprises and demanded clues. As we had seen Pets 2 the night before, we went down that rabbit hole of exhaustive hints for about three hours, testing my recall of the movie. They were good clues like, “This is going to be pawesome,” “We should get going meow” and “Think about it, kids: Pets.” But you never guessed that you were getting a kitten. You two are very smart, just not so smart about the obvious.

After all of the guessing games at dinner, your Mom dropped the three of us off at Whole Foods to grab dessert while she picked up Luna. Then we met next door at Mud Bay for the big surprise. It took you both a moment to realize that you were getting more than just a kitten visit. I caught the moment on video when you got hit by the realization: “Oh my gosh, we get the kitten forever?!”

We hit the road and Luna proceeded to cry for a solid, painful 30-minutes in her cat carrier until your Mom succumbed to hold the kitten on her lap.

The past couple of weeks have been a lot of fun raising the kitten. She is a great fit for the family as she has her moments being totally wild but can as easily settle down easily for a cuddle on the couch. Luna and Greta were at odds the first few days, with Luna standing up to her new archrival for attention. After the first stand-offs, they’ve found some peace and can now cohabitate the same room. So far, we’ve kept the furniture scratching to a minimum, and I intend to keep it that way.

You are obsessed with Luna, and most of the parental work is asking you to leave the cat alone so it can breathe and walk around on its own. I only yelled at you once when you pretended the cat was a roadrunner and were carrying her by her arms. Her own screaming should have stopped you that time. Otherwise, you’re mostly busy cuddling her while watching a show or building Magna-Tiles and cardboard forts for her to play in. You’ve also suggested that maybe Luna should be just your pet and Eliza could get her own pet or just take Greta. Nice try.

I was the last stand against getting a kitten but have to admit, with her chilling on my lap as I type, that it was a good idea afterall. I only hope you love me as much as you love this cat.

Love,
Dad

Dear Eliza, 75 Months Old

You have become quite the reader these past weeks. I wish I could take credit, but seemingly out of nowhere (or regular practice at school) you can read “learner” books end-to-end.

I was shocked, I repeat “shocked,” when you read an entire Pete the Cat series to me the other night. I thought I was in charge of reading, but you quickly retired me. You became so immediately confident in your reading abiilty that, the next day, you asked your teacher if you could read a Pete the Cat story in front of your entire kindergarten class.

This is a very big deal. People of all ages typically loathe public speaking or public reading but you sought it out. I have to admit I was a little nervous that morning you would get stagefright when given the chance, but you told us that the reading event went great. Your friends applauded and asked you to read again the next day. I’m sure you inspired them to practice reading a little more, too.

Reading is sort of magical if you think about it. You get to put letters together and see them as words and ideas. You get to understand stories and concepts from other people this way. I hope this new abiilty to read inspires a reading habit more than I have. Your Mom and I might get through a dozen books a year combined. We like to read, but we don’t make enough time for it. Some of the smartest people I know seem to read at inhuman speeds and volumes, so take a page from their book and read a lot.

I guess I just prefer to write more than I read. But I also talk more than I listen. My character flaws are consistent. It’s better to be a good listener and a good reader, so you’re off to a great start.

Love, Dad

Dear Matteo, 54 Months Old

You have a nomadic way of going to sleep. You wander between couches and bedrooms trying to find a comfortable spot to wind down. It’s not about brightness or darkness because you’ll shift between rooms with either option. It’s not about space because sometimes you find a big bed to sleep in alone, and sometimes you are snuggled in with Eliza or your Mom.

Some nights you defy sleep altogether.

“Sleep is bad!” and “I’ll never go to sleep again!” are common, last-stand refrains, as if sleep slighted you and you have yet to make amends.

You always need a “softie” ultra-soft blanket to finally settle whereever you do, which is never your own bed. Because of that, Mom and I carry you every night into your room after you’ve given into sleep.

The effort has gotten to be more and more difficult as you’ve gotten heavier and longer. I feel the stairs now when I have to climb them as the task has turned into a weighted lunge exercise. You also have a stretch reflex when picked up that turns you into a solid plank, which makes things a little harder as we have to turn sideways around corners so we don’t bonk your feet or head on a wall.

I’ve recently started to wonder how long this routine will last. When will my back not be able to take it after you gain a few more assymetrical pounds? Will you one day concede and more often choose to sleep in your own room, knowing you wake up there anyway? Sometimes, after an awkward, tired carry I can’t wait for the change to come. Sometimes, I hope the pattern never changes.

I promise to carry you to sleep as long as I can. And then you get to carry me.

Love, Dad