Dear E.J. - Six Years

My dear E.J.,

Happy birthday, buddy! You are six years old now! Six seems so grown up, don't you think? I think you agree, considering that two nights before your birthday, as I said goodnight to you I told you, "Wow! Tomorrow is your last day of being five! How exciting!" and you burst into tears. You told me you like being five and you like kindergarten and don't want to be six. And I'll tell you what, bud - I get that. Five was great fun and frankly, you kind of got cheated out of a lot of it. I can understand your feeling that we haven't quite finished this chapter, so it can't possibly be time to move on already.

You see, we are in the midst of a global pandemic. A novel coronavirus has been spreading throughout the world since late 2019, and through the U.S. in earnest since March. As of March 16, we put ourselves in "safer at home" self-quarantine and have barely left the house since then. The goal was to "flatten the curve," to slow the spread of the virus enough that our hospitals and healthcare systems would not be overloaded. The remainder of the school year was canceled, and you finished kindergarten via virtual learning. Churches, stores, museums, everything closed - even Disney World! The restaurants that did stay open were only open for takeout and delivery, and shelves were picked clean at grocery stores. Things got really bad in major cities right away - New York City, Los Angeles, Chicago, Miami. Things stayed pretty under control in our neck of the woods, however, so in May things started to open back up. First the beaches, then restaurants with limited capacity, then more and more businesses and activities. However, now we're seeing a surge in virus cases in our state and so the threat feels very imminent once again. Yet now the people are tired of restrictions, resistant to wearing masks, and some even question if the virus is actually real, or as serious as it is made out to be. So, I'm a bit apprehensive of what may still be to come for us.

Our family does take the whole thing very seriously, however, and it has dominated our lives for the past four months. Aside from grocery or other food pickup, daily evening walks, and bi-weekly trips to the beach (where we stay FAR away from any other people), we don't leave the house. We did attempt to go to the zoo once, but the unmasked crowds forced us to leave shortly after we got there because we didn't feel it was safe enough. Of course, just last week our mayor issued a mask mandate for our county, which may or may not help things. But as for us, when we do go out where we may in any way interact with others, we wear masks. I even made you and Bunny matching ones to try to bring some lightheartedness to what can be a pretty stressful environment.

All this to say, you really were cheated out of your last few months of being five, and certainly the last couple of months of kindergarten.You didn't get to go on your zoo field trip with your class (and for many weeks after schools closed you would remind me to keep an eye on my email in case your teacher emailed and told you to wear your class shirt, because that would mean you were going to the zoo after all). You didn't get to celebrate your birthday at school. Almost your entire t-ball season was canceled. We missed out on several Disney trips. You had a virtual kindergarten graduation instead of an in-person performance (and you cried when it was over, because you didn't REALLY get to say goodbye to your friends and teacher). We "attended" church on Easter Sunday via YouTube. Instead of spending the month of June at Papa's house with Aunt Heather, Aunt Molly and your cousins as we planned, we spent our days walking the neighborhood and tie-dying shirts at our own house. We had planned to celebrate your birthday with a weekend stay at Legoland, but instead we stayed home and made the most of things. 

All this breaks my heart, because I know that you and Ellie only get one childhood. It kills me to see you "missing it." We're doing our best to keep things fun and interesting even in these circumstances, but clearly this is not what I would have wanted for your childhood. And I don't know how long it will last, or how long I can keep putting a positive spin on things for you. I haven't yet told you that you will likely still be attending school via at-home computer screen in the fall, or that Halloween trick-or-treating may very well be canceled. It's easy for me to lose myself in the sadness of what is lost, but we are trying to take it one day at a time and do what we can to build happy memories, so that your recollection of this time is much more rosy than mine will be.

But I'll tell you what, buddy, you and Ellie have been real troopers. Sure, there have been moments when you've really felt the weight of what's going on and how it is affecting your life. There have definitely been tears and breakdowns, for all of us. But you really have rolled with the punches and done very well - you were a good sport for online school, you play well with Ellie (most of the time), and you've mastered your scooter which helps make our walks more tolerable to you. You seem pretty content to be at home a lot of the time, especially because you have tons more time to build LEGO now than you did a few months ago!

LEGO is everything to you right now. You spend almost all of your free time building things and you are very creative, always making creations with elaborate stories, even with the sort of limited brick selection we have. We also watched a show call Lego Masters at the start of quarantine, in which a series of LEGO builder pairs competed for the title of Master Builder. You had a favorite team and you cried when they were eliminated, but you loved the show and you love to make your own "Building With E.J." how-to videos for me to send to your cousins. For your birthday "party" this year, we had a whole LEGO day at home (yes, I'm writing this letter a couple days AFTER your birthday! For shame!). We had LEGO decorations, a LEGO cake with minifigs holding your candles, and the main event was a big scavenger hunt that led you to eight different LEGO sets hidden around the house. We spent the day building, building, building and you loved it!

You still like baseball, though that has sort of taken a backseat given that everything baseball-related has been canceled. Your spring t-ball season was canceled after only three games, the Jumbo Shrimp season has been canceled, and Major League Baseball is attempting to resume their season later this month but there is much skepticism about how realistic that really is. But, you do still like to go out in the front yard and hit some home runs - a major highlight of your birthday this year was doing so under the neighborhood fireworks, as they do in The Sandlot! You really are getting good, even with pretty minimal practice! You're getting so much better at catching and throwing, and assuming we can resume t-ball next year, your dreams of hitting a home run over the fence will likely be realized. A major highlight from the fall season this year was you calling your shot, Babe Ruth style, and then hitting it right where you called it. You are something else and people always loved to watch you when you were up to bat. Some opposing team coaches jokingly accused us of corking our bats after your turn at bat this season! I sure do hope you can get back to where you left off soon.

You did very well in kindergarten this year! Our decision to move you forward rather than giving you another year in preschool was a good one. You loved your class and your teacher and made some great little friends. Your reading has progressed quite well, and your teacher says you really enjoy math, too. I was lucky enough to be able to chaperone a couple of your field trips and class parties in the fall, and I loved seeing you thriving in your school environment!

You still love all things Halloween and spooky, and you've been talking about what we will be for Halloween this year since September (yes, before last year's Halloween had even passed!). You love rollercoasters and Star Wars and macaroni and cheese. Your favorite color is still blue, and your favorite TV shows include The Clone Wars, Lego Masters, and Xavier Riddle and the Secret Museum. Your favorite movies are The Last Jedi and the The Sandlot. Your favorite ride at Disney World is the Haunted Mansion, though the two new Star Wars rides at Hollywood Studios might give it a run for its money these days. Your favorite restaurant is Chick-Fil-A. You sleep on the bottom bunk, and you like to hang blankets around the perimeter to form a "cave," and you hang toys and stuffed animals from the slats above you so they look like bats. You say "musician" when you mean to say "magician" (and nobody is in a hurry to correct you). You love to FaceTime with family, though you are also notorious for being the one to say "so should we end the call?" as soon as there's a lull in conversation. Your best friends this year were Emory, Angelo, Eli and Micah. Your favorite music varies, often depending on the hot movie du juor - recently you've been on a Hamilton soundtrack kick ("Guns and Ships" is your favorite), but you also like soundtracks to Aladdin, Lego Ninjago, and Lego Movie 2. You have learned how to ride your Spiderman scooter and you love to coast down hills. You still laugh yourself into hiccups and love to be tickled. You are very expressive when you speak and you make the funniest emotive faces. You've got charisma!

You are also very sweet. Sure, you have your ornery and contrarian moments, but don't we all? But you have such a sweet side. When you see two butterflies flying together you say, "Look, Mama! That's you and me!" and when I have the hiccups, you run and get me a cup of water with a straw so I can try the trick for getting rid of them that you saw on TV. You are thoughtful and kind - for example, for Ellie's birthday, you made her a Lego "doll," worked very hard on a homemade Frozen birthday card for her, chose a perfect Frozen-themed Lego set to buy for her (and you already had it in mind, it wasn't something I suggested), and chose to dress in your Olaf t-shirt in her honor. You also suggested that we drive you around the block so you could be a part of her birthday car parade! I also often find little LEGO creations that you make for me waiting on my desk (flowers, a panda, us in minifig form), and even little "I love you notes." They are all so special to me!

I will say, in looking back at last year's letter, you seem to have done some solid growing up this year. You no longer take naps, you're able to do an assortment of things for yourself (get your own breakfast, turn on your PBS Kids show in the morning, get your own cup of water, etc.), and you're finally tall enough for some of the bigger rollercoasters at Disney (though that will have to wait!). You speak well and have a great memory. You play well independently (as I mentioned, you could build LEGO on your own for hours), as well as playing great elaborate pretend play games with Ellie. You still like costumes, though they're not a daily staple like they once were. You don't need me to sing to you at night anymore, though you do still ask for a round of Twinkle, Twinkle if you've had a bad dream.

Last year I was lamenting the transition from young-childhood to school-age for you, and that continues to play out. I'm still holding tight to any threads of baby you that are still hanging on - you still often ask for snuggles (and I can still fit you in my lap!), you often come out of your room at night to ask for another hug, you still reach for my hand when we're out walking. When your LEGO creation breaks, you cry and seek my help in repairing it. I see you growing and changing so fast, and those moments where you still need me just to be there are very dear to me.

Sometimes, out of nowhere, you'll ask insightful questions that speak to what may be going on in your head, even if you're not particularly forthcoming about it usually (for example, you recently asked me if I ever get scared, which I believe reflected what you might be feeling about the pandemic). You have this sort of quiet, subtle way to let me know that you're working through something and I love that you trust me enough to ask those questions.

E.J., I hope you know how much you are loved. And not only by our little family, but by so many people in your life. For your birthday this year, since you couldn't have a party, I posted on Facebook asking for people to send me videos of themselves wishing you a happy birthday. I thought I'd get a handful from family and hopefully a couple of friends, but buddy, I got 45 videos. Forty-five! One woman from our church even spent three evenings wandering the neighborhood, asking strangers to sing to you. We got videos from friends, family, your teacher, your pastors and other church leaders, just so many people who wanted to brighten your day. You leave an impression on people, buddy. You make people smile and they want to return the favor. 

I think you did enjoy your birthday this year, even if it didn't look like we would have wanted it to. One thing this pandemic has really made clear to me is that our family is everything we need. I know everyone says that; I always have. But we are also a family of "do-ers." We go places and do things and dress in costume and throw crazy birthday parties and travel to fun places. Now that we are stuck at home, our family identity is sort of being tested. We can't do all the things we usually do. That could really be a tough adjustment for us - and sure, to an extent, it has been. We miss doing a lot of our usual activities, of course. But we are also having so much fun together. I feel like this quarantine has been one example after another of me thinking "oh no, we're going to be in quarantine for xyz occasion, I can't even imagine it, how disappointing" and then somehow, we find a way to make that occasion just as special and memorable (if not more so) than any other has ever been. Even being stuck at home, we're enjoying ourselves and our time together just as much as ever before. We've got a really special thing here, buddy.

E.J., I don't know what the next year will look like for you. I mean, I never do, really, but this year feels much more uncertain than probably any year of your life thus far. I don't know what is to come for our city, our country, our world. I don't know what your schooling will look like, or when you will return to t-ball, or how we'll celebrate Christmas this year. I don't know when you'll next play on a public playground or hug a friend. I don't know what toll any of this will take on you, both in the immediate weeks and months, and long term. All I can do is try my best to help you form great memories from this time, to feel loved and supported, to feel as safe as possible, and to keep you moving forward and growing and developing as best as I can in the situation at hand. It's a tall task, to be sure, but you are so, so worth it. 

And the one thing I know is that we are lucky to have each other. We're lucky to have you, buddy - you to snuggle in close, to show us your latest builds with such enthusiasm, to give one last hug to at night, to make us laugh, to remind us to put the world aside and have some fun for a while. Thank you for what you bring to our family. Thank you for being you. 

I love you so much, nugget. I'm always here for whatever you need. Always.

All my love,

Mama

* * * * *

Dear E.J.,

Happy birthday! Congrats on wrapping up another great year! A few nights before your birthday, you cried because you liked being five so much. That’s understandable because you spend so much of your days doing things you love. It probably also helps that there are so many things you like doing and that you are pretty good at most of them. I feel pretty confident this will continue to be true for at least the next few years and hope it’s still pretty true when you get around to reading this. When writing a letter like this, there’s always so much that could be said. I mean, we wrote you letters each of your first twelve months and you couldn’t even really do anything! What I want to try to do instead this year is to tell you a couple of stories that stand out now and that I think you might like to know about someday.

The Great EJ-Bino

Last time we checked in, you had started down a path to being super into baseball. I am very happy to report that, although you’ve branched out a bit into LEGO, some kicking and dribbling, as well as a renewed Star Wars obsession, baseball is still way up there. After your 5th birthday, we kept practicing all the time, and read a bunch of baseball books, actually we read all the baseball books our library had in its kids section, including stories about Joe DiMaggio and his bat, Jackie Robinson, and Babe Ruth. The Sandlot became your favorite movie and we got to visit the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown and watch a bunch of games in person on our road trip (Phillies, Mets, Indians and Reds). The Mets game was particularly memorable because it was just you and me and we had such a great time! You looked like you felt so cool riding the subway out to Queens and walking around the big stadium. We got a Mr. Met on the Moon bobblehead, Mr. Met signed your baseball card and you even hit a ball over the fence at “Kiddie” field in the kids area. You still talk about details from that game any time we hear anything about the Mets or the Pirates. 

But the fun really kicked up a notch in the fall. I feel pretty confident saying that you were, pound-for-pound, the best hitter in the tee ball league. All season, I could hear parents from both teams telling their friends they had to watch you bat and, even though you are still one of the smallest players on our team, there were multiple opposing coaches who joked about having you tested for PEDs after the game. You even made a kid cry with a line drive to third base. It’s okay, he’s fine. Besides hitting the ball hard, it was also fun to watch because you took it so seriously. You have a really elaborate pre-swing routine like your favorite major leaguers. You hold up a hand, as if to call for time, while you dig your cleats into the box, and then loop your bat a couple of times to get loose. All the while the ball is just sitting there because you are five and its tee ball. I just love it. But there was one at bat that will forever be a part of EJ lore, and it’s a major reason baseball is our first story. Early in the season you walked up to the plate for your second at bat of the game. You looked so purposeful as you walked to the plate, and you moved with a good bit of swagger. Before settling in you lifted your left hand and pointed one finger at center field. Yes, I’m serious. Inspired by your favorite Hall of Famer and your number three jersey, you called your shot at five years old in a tee ball game where nobody had any idea what was happening. And to seal the deal, you ripped one over second base and it was amazing.

Before I move on, I also want to point out that it has been interesting as a parent, coach and former teacher to see that your prowess is primarily the result of hard work. I hope you have decent baseball genes (I mean, who wouldn’t want to take credit), but your growth from year one to two is so clearly the result of the countless hours you spent practicing. I think it helps that it doesn’t feel like work, but that you really enjoy playing and want to do it all the time. Either way, it’s been a great, and clear, example of the value of practice. I hope you always work hard and believe you can do anything you decide you want to do. 

You can’t control the cards you’re dealt, just how you play the hand

Not to take anything away from an eventful year 6 and all of the fun ways you’re growing up, but the biggest story in 2020 is the worldwide COVID-19 pandemic and the 100+ days we’ve spent in quarantine. Unfortunately, this story is still being written and I think we’re too deep in it for me to step back and have any significant reflections to share right now. I can say that I hope you and Ellie are at just the right age to be able to keep learning and to play and entertain each other, without missing out on things that have a high probability of being significant. Neither of you are changing school levels, or missing out on a prom, science fair or a key field trip. You don’t yet hang out with friends outside of school, and you are too young to be playing sports competitively or meaningfully participating in other extracurricular activities. Nonetheless, it stinks that you didn’t get to finish kindergarten, that you had 70% of our tee ball season cancelled, and that we won’t get to take a trip this summer. Most of all, it stinks that I don’t know when this list is going to stop getting longer.

I hesitate to call anything a silver lining, but my second story is the result of something that started because of this situation. You, me and Ellie are now regular card players, mostly poker and blackjack, and I’ve been performing a couple of magic tricks every week for the past two months. I have no idea how long the magic hobby will last, but I spent a lot of time playing cards when I was younger and I think it’s great for building number fluency and strategic thinking, in addition just plain being fun. I’ve always liked magic-Mama and I even met David Blaine in Times Square-but it wasn’t until we had so much extra time to fill that I got the push I needed to give it a try. It also helped that Mama started having hours-long calls some evenings with her sister and family because it really takes practice!

Some of my first tricks involved having a Lego minifigure bend a quarter and changing all of the M&Ms in a bag to chosen color, though most of the subsequent tricks have focused on card magic. I am working my way through Hugard’s The Royal Road to Card Magic and magicians like Chris Ramsey and Alex Pandrea on YouTube have been super helpful. I can’t believe so much information was just sitting out there this whole time. It’s easier than it has ever been to learn what you want, and I can’t help but wonder how you and your peers will be able to discern the best and most valuable information from the glut that is only going to get bigger. In any event, your faces and reactions to the magic have been so awesome and are what drive me to keep learning. It’s also the first thing you and Ellie suggest when I ask what you want to do each weekend. But, the most fun part for me has been watching you guys try to replicate the tricks. For example, you had M&Ms for dessert every day after the first show, though you weren’t quite able to make any magic happen. Cards have been a different story and that’s what I really wanted to share with you. 

I think there are two ways to interpret a “magic trick,” which depend largely on which word does most of the work. Either it’s magic, such that some people have it and others don’t, or it’s a trick and things are not what they seem. Most kids, including your sister, are awed by magic, only to get frustrated when they do what they thought they saw and have it not work. It took you maybe two weeks to figure out it couldn’t be that simple and that you needed to take matters into your own hands. We were outside playing when you brought out a deck and had Ellie pick a card. You turned around and fumbled with the cards, before turning back and dealing a couple off the top that you knew weren’t hers. You then secretly dealt her card from the bottom of the deck and she loved it. I may not have reacted as loudly as she did, but I loved it, too. It’s obviously not the cleanest trick in the world, but you basically invented your own sleight of hand! Since then, you’ve also started setting up the deck to be able to guess a spectator’s card, and dealt yourself four aces on more than one occasion when you were playing poker with Ellie. I hope you get good enough that you don’t need to cheat, or, at least, that you learn to disguise it better. Mostly, I’m really interested to see what this cleverness means. It’s too soon to speculate, but I thought it was cool and worth noting.

Various and Sundry

I know I said I’d try to work with only a few stories, but I wanted to let you know there were lots of other things we could have covered here, such as: 

• Your Mother’s Day stormtrooper dance or the other performances you’ve done this year, acting out shows, playing on the piano, or with the recorder. 

• Lego. You build constantly, are really creative and detail-oriented, and keep getting better all the time. We also watched the Lego Masters TV show as a family and you cried when your favorite team was sent home early. 

• Your impressive memory for names. Whenever we see a kid from your school, you almost always know who they are and which class they’re in. From what I see, it’s pretty rare, but I think it fits well with the charisma narrative I started to build in an earlier letter. 

• You’re still pretty small for your age, which I think could actually help you develop better in sports without being able to rely on size or strength advantages, like most of the kids who will stand out in youth leagues. But, this year, it also meant you could go as Abu to my Aladdin for Halloween. It was super fun to walk around with you sitting on my shoulder. 

E.J., I just love that you’re my little buddy and I think you like it almost as much as I do. I hope it never changes even when you’re not so little. You’re so special and I love you so much.

All my love,

Daddy