Dear Moe (42nd Month)

Hello, Pookie Bean. What a month it’s been! 

You are officially three-and-a-half now, and you are tons of fun. It has been an exciting month and a wonderful summer. 

We started the month with a day trip to Iroquois to visit Bambi and her mom. You greatly enjoyed our trip to Prehistoric World, which is a 1-km walking trail dotted with life-sized cement dinosaur statues. You still talk about it and ask to go back. After the dino walk, we had a picnic at the Iroquois Locks. We chased seagulls, watched the locks open and close and saw the boats go by. It was a lovely day. You happily gave Bambi’s mom a big hug before we left. 

We have been lucky enough to have Aunt Natalie and your cousin Caspian in town for a few weeks. Uncle Darin came with them for the first few days. While it was obvious that you weren’t delighted to suddenly share our attention with a baby, you did really well, and love to entertain Caspian with funny dances. He loves to bounce up and down, so you do that too, and you both laugh together. It’s wonderful to watch. You have also been pretty darn graceful about watching a number of your toys being passed down to your little cousin. Although, when we found that some stickers I bought you were somewhat subpar and you suggested that we give THEM to Caspian because they “aren’t very good,” you may have missed the point. 

This letter is so late because we’ve been away and it’s been a busy time since we got home. We spent a week in Wells Beach, Maine. We stayed at a beachside cottage (or a “little house,” as you called it) with Granny, and Aunt Janine and Uncle Mark stayed in another cottage across the way. It was a wonderful vacation. The weather was perfect, you were a total trooper on the drive there and back, and we got to spend time with some of our favourite people. 

On the night we arrived, we were greeted by Evan and Megan, who you adore. We had a lovely evening with them, although bedtime was a bit of a challenge. You were pretty keyed up and you were sleeping in an unfamiliar place. I’m pleased to say, though, that you were an excellent sleeper for the rest of the trip. 

The next morning there was sand play on the beach with Uncle Mark. You both devised a good system whereby any castles on the right side of a line in the sand were fine to be demolished and any castles on the left side of a line in the sand were not to be touched. It worked out well, you demolished many castles, and had a lovely time. Then Aunt Kimmy, Uncle Luc, Caleb and Noah arrived for the day and your cup ran over. Not only were they awesome playmates, but they brought you a slew of amazing hand-me-down toys that pretty much blew your mind. The highlights were the Dinosaur Train and a set of Buzz Lightyear wings and bracers. Oh my goodness. You were absolutely delighted. It was really lovely to see you play with Caleb and Noah. Caleb in particular took a real shine to you and helped you into your wings, played ball with you, and invited you to hang with him. It was also so gratifying to see how huggy Noah still is, even at the age of six. It gives me great hope that your wonderful affectionate nature will stay with you a while longer, even as you get older.   

You did very well in Kittery at the outlet malls, both in terms of your behaviour and your haul of new clothing. We got you some new pants, a whack of socks, a fall shell coat and a winter coat that you liked so much you insisted on wearing it one evening in the cottage. How you didn’t melt away remains a mystery. 

The best times with you on this trip were really the simplest times - sometimes we were doing things I remember doing as a child, and sometimes we were creating our own memories. Digging holes on the beach. Blowing bubbles for you to chase on the cottage lawn. Walking to the boardwalk, and visiting the Beachcomber, where you scored a shiny red firetruck with an extendable ladder. Sitting on the cement outside Forbes, eating ice cream. Standing outside the Goldenrod in York Beach, watching the salt water taffy being made. Sharing a lobster roll with you. (History repeated itself - I barely got any!) Standing on the sea wall, watching the waves crash against the rocks. Hearing you exclaim, “WHOA! Did you see that one? It was a big one!” with every wave. Watching you fly your pirate kite by yourself. Standing with you in the water as the waves lapped at our feet. Riding the trolley while eating fried clams and french fries. Watching you fall in love with showers. Our meal at the Ogunquit Lobster Pound where you were given a cookie bigger than your head.  

You shared a bedroom with Granny, and while I don’t think she’s used to getting up that early, I know she greatly enjoyed seeing you first thing in the morning. Aunt Janine and Uncle Mark loved seeing you in the evenings when you were at your most cuddly. You were completely freaked out by seaweed and would not walk on it. But you loved when Aunt Janine carried you and made “squishy noises” when she walked on the seaweed. 

You napped every day. You didn’t have a single accident. You behaved beautifully. We simply adore travelling with you. 

Thank you for a wonderful “bacation,” darling. It was magical, and so are you. We love you so much and you bring such joy to our lives. I talk about Wells Beach being my happy place, but really, my happy place is anywhere with you. You made my happy place even happier by being there. 

Dear Moe (41st Month)

Hello, darling boy. Your letter is a week late this month, and I’m sorry. 

I could tell you all kinds of things about our adventures in the last five weeks. I could tell you about how we had a lovely belated Father’s Day celebration with Grandpa Leo, which included an outing to the Farmers Market, and a trike ride to O’Grady’s for lunch. I could tell you about the week you ate at O’Grady’s three times (once with Grandpa Leo, once with me, and once with Aunt Janine and Uncle Mark). I could tell you about how, even though you aren’t in school, summer vacation has presented some behavioural challenges for you. I could tell you it’s because you miss Sandy’s playgroup very much (it’s only open during the school year), and that having Robin’s older sons home during the day can be tons of fun for you but also quite overwhelming. I could tell you that you are finally sleeping without a bedrail, and you haven’t fallen out of bed in weeks. I could tell you about our fantastic visit from Aunt Heather and our trip to Sky Zone indoor trampoline park together. I could tell you that we hardly ever use the travel reducer seat when we’re out and about because in the last three weeks, we have not met a toilet into which you couldn’t pee standing up. I could tell you about how much you adore Dinosaur Train - especially the episodes about the forest fire and the drought. I could tell you about our trip to the fire station. I could tell you about your awesome sense of humour, your new love of knock-knock jokes, and your jokey-rhyming (Daddy: “Your bum is pretty raw.” You: “My bum is made of STRAW!” *peals of laughter at your own hilarity*). I could tell you about how changes at day care (a new little girl, a new routine, end of Sandy’s playgroup) meant that you suddenly developed some real separation anxiety, as well as a huge desire to test your limits (we clamped down, and things have been much better in the last week). 

But instead of telling you all those things, I’m going to tell you about your Grandpa Reg. 

First of all, he’s not your grandpa. If he’s anything, he’s your great-grandpa. I’ve thought of him as my grandpa for the bulk of my life. He and his first wife, Nina, with whom he was married for more than 50 years, lived next door when I was growing up. Here is something I wrote 10 years ago about my relationship with Nina. But a lot has happened since April 2003. Nina died in December of that year, and I began visiting Reg every weekend. That continued pretty much until you were born, and now you and I try and visit him twice a month. Since Nina’s death, I’ve seen Reg through many transitions. He sold the house. He moved to Belleville. He moved back to Ottawa, into Stillwater Retirement Residence. There, he met and married Joan. Joan moved to the Perley, and Reg moved to Alta Vista Manor to be closer to her. Reg moved to the Perley. In the last ten years, Reg and I have become very close, and he is an irreplaceable part of my life. It isn’t just because he’s my tie to Nina’s memory. We have been on countless adventures (outings, road trips, and a very memorable Caribbean cruise), and if I go too long without visiting him, I feel like something is missing from my life. My experience with Nina and Reg is one of the main sources of my philosophy about “chosen family,” which I am trying hard to pass on to you. 

Reg has also become a very important part of your life, and the feeling is quite mutual. You are not shy to tell him that you love him, to give him hugs and kisses. You love sharing your toys and snacks with him, and telling him all kinds of things that you think he should know. You love getting a ride on his scooter - and not just because he goes fast, but because it’s something special that you share together. You are both so proud as you ride down the halls, and the other residents comment about your sweet ride. You have never not wanted to visit. In fact, there have been times when I have told you about our plans to visit the night before, and you have eagerly asked, “Can we go NOW?” 

In the last year or so, Reg has declined. He is 93 years old. He’s had prostate cancer for years, he is at risk for another stroke, and in the last year, his bone marrow has become tired. We aren’t sure if cancer has invaded the marrow, or if it is simply declining, but he’s gone from having a blood transfusion once a month to every three weeks, and now, to every two weeks. He is tired and anemic, and for the first time in a long time, he’s not doing a fantastic job of hiding it. 

I don’t know how much longer Reg has before his body becomes too tired and gives up. It could be months and months, or it could be less. But when we said goodbye today, he watched us walk all the way down the long hallway until we were out of sight. I know this, because I couldn’t help looking back. We blew kisses and waved. 

You are only three and a half, and when Grandpa Reg dies, I don’t know how much of him you will remember. So I’m telling you this now: 

He loves you, and you love him. I know this because you’ve told him so. In fact today, when he left to use the bathroom, you asked to go with him. When I said no, you said, with a note of desperation in your voice, “But I love him.” And you do, very much. (I still didn’t let you follow him to the bathroom, but he came back, as promised.) 

When we get to a point that he doesn’t come back, darling, I want you to know that you have shared something very special with a truly amazing man. And that amazing man has enjoyed every moment of his time with you. 

August 2010

Letter to Mo Willems: Moe, Gerald and Piggie

Dear Mo Willems,

I want to tell you about my son, Moe. (That isn’t his real name, it’s what we call him on the internet. Not that there is anything wrong the name Moe. Or Mo.) Moe is 3.5 years old and fantastic. I’m saying that because I’m his mom, but also because it’s true.

We have read about and greatly enjoyed Edwina, the naked mole rats, and of course, the Pigeon and the Duckling. But something has happened recently involving Gerald and Piggie that I wanted you to know.

We first met Gerald and Piggie in We are in a Book! Moe adores this book, although he always hides when Piggie comes really close to scope out the reader. He howls with laughter when they make me say “banana”. He recites Gerald’s freak-out along with me as I read it.

It wasn’t long before my husband, who manages a bookstore, brought home a whack-load of Gerald and Piggie books. Moe has taken a particular shine to Are You Ready to Play Outside?, Happy Pig Day!, and Let’s Go for a Drive.

Last night, we read Are You Ready to Play Outside?, and something interesting happened. Moe started talking to Gerald and Piggie.

“Piggie?” he asked, after Piggie had declared she didn’t like rain.

“Yes?” I answered, in Piggie’s voice.

“You could try and like the rain.”

“Do you think so?” Piggie asked.

“Yeah.”

We kept reading. The story went on, and the sun came out.

“Piggie?” he asked.

“Yes?” Piggie answered.

“Don’t worry. Gerald has a plan. He will make it rain because he’s your friend.”

We finished the book, and moved on to I Want My Hat Back, by Jon Klassen. I put Are You Ready to Play Outside? aside.

“No, Mommy! Gerald and Piggie want to see the book, too!”

So I propped the book up so they could follow along as we read I Want My Hat Back.

“Piggie, is that funny?” he asked. “Gerald, do you like this book?”

At the end of the story, he said goodnight to Gerald and Piggie and told them he’d see them tomorrow.

Thank you so much, Mr. Willems, for creating characters that have obviously captured my son’s imagination as well as his heart. I was going to write that Moe so desperately wants these characters to be real, but that isn’t true. To him, they are real. And that is the magic of books.

Dear Moe (40th Month)

Hello, apple cider granola bar sunshine. (That’s what you call us when you go to bed. “Goodnight Daddy apple cider granola bar! Goodnight Mommy granola bar sunshine!” It’s very flattering - they are all things you like.) 

My darling, this past month has been pretty magical for so many reasons. Here are a few examples: 

• You, all tucked into bed and stroking your belly through your blanket, saying, “I have to get comfy-fied.” 
• You have added a new element to the bedtime ritual, and it involves humming the Imperial March with Daddy. I have never seen a happier, prouder father. He describes it as a little slice of awesome. 
• You pick up rocks whenever we go for a walk, and they are all sitting in a little pile on the window sill on the front porch. You refer to it as your “collection”. You now understand that rocks and sticks don’t come into the house. 
• Granny took you to the Agriculture Museum on a day when you were able to pet the baby bunnies. You were so delighted and ever so gentle with them. 
• Robin now has a small (hypoallergenic) doggie named Smokey, who you absolutely adore. You love petting him and having someone small to take care of. 
• Grandma stayed home with you for the day when you were sick, and you worked with her to wash every dish in the kitchen. When you woke up from your nap, you were so very proud to be able to tell me, “Mommy, I washed the dishes.” You had a ball. 

There have been a number of times this month when you got very frustrated or angry and cried, “I just want to DO something.” We weren’t sure if you were frustrated because there was something you were able to do but weren’t allowed, or because you wanted to do something but weren’t able to do it. Then Robin told us about an incident that happened at day care. She had made brownies for everyone, and had put them in a container on the table. You asked for one. Just after she got you one, you picked up the container of brownies and deliberately dumped them on the dirty, sandy carpet. Nobody else was able to have a special snack that day. When Robin asked you why on earth you’d done that, you said, “I just wanted to do something.” We had a talk about it while you were in the bath that evening, and you essentially told me that you did it to get a reaction. By the end of the chat, you were able to consider how you would feel if you had worked hard to make something, only to have someone come along and dump it in the dirt, and you agreed that you would feel very sad. I think you felt real remorse when you looked at it that way. I also explained that in this world, there are people who do things that make others happy, and people who do things that make others sad, and that we should always try and be the people who make others happy. (“If you want to do something that gets a reaction, do something good that gets a happy reaction.”) As you get older, you will learn that it isn’t that simple - sometimes doing the right thing isn’t the course of action that will make people happy. At the end of the day, though, we want you to be compassionate and caring and kind. Right now, for someone who is three, that generally means making the choices that make others happy. I look forward to sorting out the nuances of this with you as you grow. You are a kind and loving little boy. I know you will be able to make the right choices. And when you don’t, I’ll be there to talk them through with you. (Since the “brownie incident,” there have been fewer declarations of “I just want to DO something.” I see this as a positive thing.) 

We had a number of amazing adventures this month. To begin, we went as a family to the Star Wars Identities exhibit at the Canada Aviation and Aerospace Museum. I’m not going to lie, we were pretty disappointed that you were unnerved by how dark the exhibit was and that you wanted to go home as soon as you walked in. But you allowed us to hit all the main stations, we all built our characters and saw some cool stuff. Since then, any time you see either C-3PO or R2-D2, you declare proudly, “I saw them at Star Wars!” The experience was worth it just for that. (Mommy’s highlight was seeing Leia’s metal bikini.) 

You and I had our first overnight out-of-town getaway together since we went to Halifax when you were 3 months old. We went to Montreal for two nights. Pookiest of pookies, let me tell you how incredibly proud I was (and am) of you. You are a homebody and an only child and you dislike being outside your comfort zone. You handled being without your daddy, sleeping in a strange house, and suddenly being surrounded by no less than SEVEN other little kids (five of whom were eager to share your toys) with incredible grace. You did beautifully. It was a lovely experience for me, because I got to hang out with some of the girls with whom I went to Kamp Kanawana more than 20 years ago. I hope you make friends like that, my darling... people that are worth reconnecting with after 20 years. We stayed at Samantha’s dad’s house, and we pretty much had our own suite upstairs. It was a very comfortable arrangement, and you slept quite well on a futon on the floor at the foot of my bed. 

One of the highlights of the trip was definitely our Saturday morning adventure with my friend Chris (someone else I hadn’t seen in about 20 years). We met up with him at the Biodome and you took a shine to him immediately.You weren’t crazy about the Amazon area. (It was for several reasons, including the heat and humidity, and some confusion created when you asked “is that fog real?” and I said it was, and then realized you were asking if an ENORMOUS plastic frog was real. No amount of explaining that the frog wasn’t real could reassure you - you wanted out of there, and quickly. You did not trust that frog. Although you did enjoy the monkeys.) You also weren’t keen on anywhere that was dark, like the bat area. But you perked up immediately in the Laurentian Maple Forest (there were otters swimming speedily!), and loved the Gulf of St Lawrence and the Labrador Coast. You loved walking like a duck and playing with some small puddles that had formed by the “seashore”. You had a hard time seeing the penguins (it was dark in their habitat), but we enjoyed watching puffins dive and swim. Then you noticed one little puffin all by his lonesome over to the side, and you asked, “Why is he sad?” and I realized that it was probably because he was living at the Montreal Biodome. I was ready to explain that, but you were quickly distracted by something else. We’ll have that discussion together someday. Then you totally blew your gift shop chance by throwing a tantrum and demanding an expensive truck when I’d already said I’d buy you a small stuffie. Oh, well.  

We sought solace and distraction by blowing bubbles in Olympic Park, and Chris found some pylons and set up a stroller slalom course for the two of you. You had a blast, and Chris learned that a three-year-old will never actually stop saying “AGAIN!” until you tell them “no”, and even then they will try and negotiate. We went for lunch on the Plateau (you tried poutine for the first time), followed by ice cream, which we ate while sitting in a rather scuzzy doorway because we are not too proud and there apparently aren’t any benches in the Plateau. You didn’t mind at all. You even got to pee on a fence across the street from a super sketchy strip club, so it was a full and complete Montreal experience. We dropped Chris at his place, and about five minutes later, you said, “Mommy, I just love him.” I asked you who you were talking about, and you said, “Your friend.” I said, “Chris?” and you said, “Yep. I just love Chris.” I was very glad you had such a good time. 

The next morning, it was raining, and you asked very sweetly, “Please can we go home now?” (Except you pronounce it nay-ow, which is awesome.) As all my plans relied on the weather being good, I couldn’t deny you. Also, you were just about done. So I drove us home, and you were so, very, very happy to get there. And then you punished me for the next day and a half with behaviour that resulted in time-outs, tears and recriminations. Holy cow. I was terrified about what the recovery period would be like from our next (much bigger) travel adventure, but you surprised and delighted me. I think the problem was that I took you away from home AND took you away from your Daddy. I think you could have coped with one of those things, but both was overwhelming. 

Hilariously, when I asked you what your favourite part of Montreal had been, you said it was when we were at the grocery store and I got to the cash and realized I’d forgotten to pick-up hummus and I had to push the cart through the store at light speed to quickly find and grab the hummus and get back to the cash before the cashier cancelled my transaction. I’m glad that was a highlight for you, darling. 

We just got back from our second travel adventure. We went to Mason City, Iowa for Evan and Megan’s wedding. We had known for a long time that you would have a special job during the ceremony, but we made a conscious choice to really not make a big deal about it at all. As a result, you were a fantastic ring bearer, and enjoyed many kudos after the fact. Both Evan and Megan were delighted in your performance (you were adorable, seriously, and I was so incredibly proud of you), and you returned their affection with big hugs. Your highlights from the wedding reception were playing croquet (you showed an incredible aptitude, actually), loading and unloading your new John Deere tractor toy with the gravel from Megan’s grandfather’s driveway, and eating all of Daddy’s coleslaw and most of his ribs. 

Getting to Iowa was an adventure, but you were a total trooper. The original plan had been to fly to Minneapolis (through Chicago) on the Thursday, spend the night in Minneapolis, and then drive the two hours to Mason City on the Friday morning. Instead, our Thursday morning flight was cancelled (twice) and we ended up hanging out at the Ottawa airport for four hours, only to have to go home and try again Friday morning. We flew Ottawa to Toronto and then Toronto to Minneapolis on Friday, grabbed the rental car, drove two hours to Mason City, did groceries, bathed you, and then I dashed out to the rehearsal dinner while Daddy put you to bed in your “nest”. (He made a border around your bed with blankets and sheets so that you wouldn’t fall out of bed. You loved your nest.) 

The next morning, we hung out at the farm (the location of the wedding) so you could get the lay of the land, and that was a great plan. It also allowed us to hang with Evan and Megan and help out a bit getting things ready. (Daddy helped. I hung out with you.) Then it was back to the hotel for a nap, and your triumphant return to the farm in time for the wedding.. 

Sunday morning, we explored East Park and I introduced you to Pooh Sticks, which we played on a bridge over a creek. Then we joined everyone for a Father’s Day brunch at a local restaurant, and then drove to Minneapolis. We had dinner at the Mall of America, which was completely insane. We watched the Nickelodeon amusement park rides go around and around, we checked out the Lego Store, and then we spoiled you rotten at the Disney Store. I offered you a choice between a Woody doll or a Buzz doll, and your eyes just lit up when you saw Buzz. He now has a place of honour on your rocking chair at night, and he comes down with you in the morning. He’s as important as Lambie and Rumpus (and they are IMPORTANT). Also, when you go to university, please be grateful that I didn’t go into the Victoria’s Secret at the Mall of America and spend your RESP. Because I totally could have. 

Monday morning we fulfilled a dream of mine and visited the Minnesota Children’s Museum. You had the time of your life. Moe, there was a whole gallery of water tables where you could put on a smock and play with the water. I was afraid your brain would explode. And then you played with conveyer belts and made them go. You were mesmerized. I finally dragged you to the Our Community gallery where you had a ball in the you-sized grocery store. It was bliss. I was only sorry we could only stay an hour and a half. 

We flew home (with a long layover in Chicago) that afternoon, and got home quite late due to a delayed Chicago-Ottawa flight. Uncle Mark was there to meet us at the airport. You were chatting with him on the way home, until you suddenly said, “I don’t have any more talk” and zoned out. And no wonder. It was past 11 pm.   

Shockingly, despite the late night, your transition day went super well. We had braced for the worst after Montreal, so we took it easy and you were wonderful. You were also very happy to be home, to see your Granny and Grandma, to show them Buzz, to sleep in your own bed, and to flake out on the couch a bit and watch the Octonauts and Finding Nemo while clutching your new Nemo stuffie. 

Moe sunshine apple cider banana granola bar, we are so incredibly proud of you. Once again, you have shown us that we can take you everywhere. People - complete strangers - fall in love with you wherever you go. You are loving, sweet, kind, and funny. You have the best sense of humour and we laugh together every single day. I am so proud of the person you are becoming. Keep being awesome. And never forget how much we love you and what a great human being you are. 

Dear Moe (39th Month)

Oh, my goodness, Bean, it’s been quite a month. 

I’ll start with how happy we are that you are on the mend - you ended up with walking pneumonia, and were a pretty sick little dude for quite a while. We kept thinking it was a cold, because you seemed to be getting better, but then you stopped eating. For three days. You refused ice cream. I’ve never seen you do that before. It was insane. But the antibiotics have really helped, and you’re doing much better. You had your first big meal at O’Grady’s (you asked to go to “Stacy’s” for grilled cheese, and I wasn’t going to refuse you anything.) You still don’t have the same endurance that you did before you became ill, but that will come in time. Also, we were totally lax about the soother while you were sick, and we’re kind of paying for that now. 

I did remind you that soothers are for little babies like Caspian and that eventually, you’d have to say goodbye to your soother. You thought about it carefully for a few minutes before saying, “Caspian can have two of my soothers, but I will keep one in case he doesn’t share.” 

Before you became ill, we did conduct an experiment by taking your bed rail down. You said you were ready, so we gave it a try. It lasted for two sleeps: one night, and one nap. Each time, you fell out of bed and onto the floor with a crash. You weren’t impressed. As yours isn’t a toddler bed, but an actual day bed, we don’t have issues keeping the bed rail on for a bit longer. When we travel in hotels this summer, we’ll keep you surrounded by pillows. At the cottage in Maine, we’ll put some couch cushions on the floor or something. Maybe that will be a good step toward learning to sleep without it. 

You are still loving your gymnastics class, and a couple of weeks ago you had the pleasure of having Granny accompany you. You are definitely gaining confidence (picking up beanbags while walking on the balance beam, walking backwards, making big jumps), but you still have no interest in trying a front roll. Your favourite equipment is definitely the trampoline. I may see about enrolling you at Starr Gymnastics in the fall - it’s more expensive, but there is also more to do.

What have we done in the past month, besides staying close to home because you’ve been sick? Spring finally sprung - in fact, for while it was very summery weather - and now it’s gotten cooler again. You’ve enjoyed playing in your new sandbox on the back deck. You planted a tomato plant with Granny. You’ve greatly enjoyed watering her flowers, too. We made our triumphant return to the Farmers Market, where you proudly peed on a tree in the middle of the market. We’ve gone for some lovely trike rides - you rock your shiny new red helmet. If you get home from daycare early enough, we often go for a walk/ride together around the neighbourhood. Also, Uncle Mark and Aunt Janine surprised us with an enormous pinwheel lawn decoration. It’s huge and looks like a peacock. You adore it. 

Before you got sick, you had regressed a bit with your potty training. I don’t think anything was bothering you, I think you were just getting complacent. Overall, you do okay. If you do have an accident, it’s usually just one per day, and they are very small, usually on your way to the potty. We’re working on it. We need to keep reminding ourselves that although you have great verbal skills, you are only three years old. 

We introduced you to hockey on TV this month. It was the playoffs (still is, just not for us anymore), and although we don’t cable, we did manage to watch some games through the Xbox. You enjoyed watching the games, but were quite indignant when the hockey went away for a few minutes every so often for something called a commercial. 

Being sick meant that you watched quite a bit of TV. We introduced you to Toy Story 2, and we finally lost the Thomas the Tank Engine battle. You’ve watched it before at Robin’s and saw it on the Netflix menu and wanted to watch it so very badly. Because you were sick, we gave in. Good grief, buddy, I don’t know how you can watch those trains. Now that you’re feeling better, we’re trying to focus on other programs.  

You are learning your lowercase letters now, and doing very well. You still enjoy the tablet game that teaches you to write your letters, and are getting very good! I have a whack of games that I’d like to get for you, but I’ve been waiting until we go to Iowa next month. I want you to have shiny new games for the plane and airport. 

You love books, and we love reading with you. Some of your favourites right now include Chu’s Day, Stone Soup, the Llama Llama books, and Exclamation! We also recently rediscovered I’m Not Scared and The House of Twelve Bunnies. You can recite some of Chu’s Day by heart, and it’s wonderful. 

Next month will be quite an adventure, and I’m really looking forward to it. We’re going to see the Star Wars: Identities exhibit tomorrow at the Aviation Museum. Next weekend, you and I are going to Montreal for a little getaway, and we’re going to visit the Biodome. I’m pretty stoked about seeing penguins. And two weeks after that, we’re off to Minneapolis, Minnesota and Mason City, Iowa on our great mid-western wedding attendance extravaganza. I’m confident that you’ll impress me, like you always do. We still live by the credo that we want to be invited back wherever we go, and so far, we always have been. 

You are wonderful, darling. You are charming, funny, goofy, sweet, affectionate, adorable and generally awesome. Keep up the great work. We love you so much. 

Dear Moe (38 Months)

Hi, darling. A short letter this month, since last month’s was so late. It seems like spring is almost here... but not quite. It was 20 degrees out the other day, but then today it snowed. We can’t seem to win. But we’ve made the most of the weather. On nice days, if you get home from daycare in good time, you’ve been able to go for a few tricycle rides outside. The other day, you rode ever so far. In fact, I had to convince you to turn around when we did. I’m glad you finally listened - you were bagged by the time you rode into the driveway. Of course, you got lots of little breaks while you rode, because you can’t pass a sewer without checking it out. 

We’ve been getting your closet ready for spring. I haven’t had to buy you too many clothes, as we still have a nice selection that fit from last summer. We have had to try some of them on, though, to see if they still fit. If you’re in the mood to try on clothes, it can last a long time. One night, you ate dinner in your bathing suit and sun hat. The next evening, you asked if there were any other shorts you could try on. 

We’ve been to three weeks of gymnastics class on Saturday mornings, and it’s a huge hit. You love the class, and are generally a very good listener there. You love the balance beam and the trampoline the best, and also enjoy swinging like a monkey on the bars. You aren’t a fan of jumps from high places, but I’ve watched you gain confidence from week to week. I’m proud of you. You’ve asked several times if Granny can come and watch you, and we were happy to learn that for the last class of the season, we are able to invite visitors and take photos. I’m looking forward to that. You are so proud to tell everyone that you are in a gymnastics class. 

Your behaviour in general has greatly improved lately, which has been great for everyone. We went through a stage where you were very, very challenging, and you tested us at every possible opportunity. I’m glad to see that you understand that when you are a good listener, life is generally more pleasant for everyone. Thank you. I know this isn’t the last time I’ll see that kind of behaviour, but it’s gratifying to know that it doesn’t last forever. 

Daddy changed stores this month, and his work schedule shifted a little bit. So sometimes I’m home when you get home, and sometimes I’m not. I love hearing you come through the door. You call, “Mommy?” and after I answer, “Yes!” you always ask, “Are you home?” It cracks me up every time. 

You have such a great sense of humour. You are cheeky, and when you are joking around, you can’t keep a straight face to save your life. You are quite generous (livng up to your middle name!) and are generally very good at sharing and taking turns. 

You’ve had a bit of a regression with your potty training, but we’re dealing with it as best we can. I don’t think anything is bothering you; I think you’ve just become rather complacent about the whole thing. So we’re back to offering a reward when you’ve gone a whole day without getting your underwear wet. Some days go better than others. The problem is that you usually get too focused, suddenly realize you have to pee, and rush to the potty. You get there mostly on time, but not quickly enough. I’m proud of you for sticking with it, and proud of myself for not making too big a deal about it. 

Not only do you know all your letters, but you are getting very good at tracing them! You are also great at remembering the words to songs and at counting. You have also recently started telling “stories” - great, rambling odysseys of the imagination that are fantastic to behold. We have heard a few of them, and can’t wait to hear more. 

Keep being wonderful. We love you so much. 

Dear Moe (37 Months)

Hi, sweetie. Sorry this letter is almost a week late. It’s been a busy time, and I haven’t really felt like writing in the evenings. 

We have had a lovely month together. We’ve been very social, with visits to and from lots of people. 

We had a great playdate with Koen at his house. You were enthralled by his crazy-huge motorized marble run. You tasted popcorn for the first time, and were all over it. And you and Koen had a wonderful time sharing each other’s toys, like your Batmobile and his bowling set. (Side note: At bedtime, you get to choose two books from your shelf. Some of them are books of poetry. When you pick one of those, I tell you, “This is a book of poems.” Inevitably, you ask, incredulously, “This is Koen’s book?”) 

We had a wonderful visit from Tia Reiko, Tio Rodrigo and your cousin Isabel over March Break. We were so happy to spend time with them. Isabel made you a huge snow fort in the backyard, and you both had a great time playing there. You loved showing Tia your slick moves on your plasma car and all your favourite things at the Science and Technology Museum, and Tio Rodrigo was mesmerizing with his magic tricks and his uncanny ability to blow on a window to make the flags outside start moving. You really enjoyed having them here. There were staying at Granny's, so we spent a lot of time there. We stopped by there again the other day, and you hadn't been over since they left. You walked into the living room, looked around at the empty couch and chairs, and said, “Where did everybody go?” 

As you get older and play more with your friends (as opposed to alongside them), you are learning all kinds of important social lessons. One day this month when I picked you up from daycare, I asked you how your day was, and you responded sadly that “Nobody was friendly to me today.” As this was a very different answer than what I am used to hearing, I called Robin to find out what might have happened to make you say that. She told me that you have started seeing some of your friends almost as security blankets, and when they want to play on their own without you, you feel quite rejected. So we’ve worked on making you understand that everybody needs time to play on their own sometimes, and it doesn’t mean they don’t like you or aren’t being friendly. It’s going very well, and you are feeling much happier about your place at daycare. 

There are a few things we’ve been focusing on this month. One is your very dramatic use of hyperbole. For example, you might ask to spread the honey on your toast, but be told by Daddy that you have to wait for the toast to finish toasting first. You would then tearfully complain to me that “Daddy won’t let me put honey on my toast!” (One of my favourites was, “Mommy won’t let me do ANYTHING!”) So we started using the phrase “drama llama” (adapted from the book “Llama Llama, Mad at Mamma”) to describe this behaviour. We also ask you to “change your attitude”. You have since become much better at not being a little drama llama, and we appreciate it. 

We have also been focusing on “being friendly,” a term that comes from Robin, and means not taunting people, using potty talk, or calling people names. (Robin explains to you and the other kids that name calling isn’t a “friendly” thing to do. We’ve adopted the same words.) You have made great strides in this lately, too. Typically, these phases only last about a week or two, and with hard work on both our parts, you learn that the behaviour isn’t appropriate or appreciated. 

And finally, we’re working hard again on saying please and thank you. It seemed time for a refresher. A lot of your requests were becoming very demanding, and rather unpleasant. You’ve made great progress, and I’m sure that as we continue to work at it, you’ll get better and better about it. 

I hope this doesn’t sound like you’ve been a total pill, because you aren’t. You are still a lovely, charming boy. You are very polite, you love to tell people, “Have a good day!” (even when they are leaving in the evening). You love to be silly and funny. When we put your socks on, you love it when we put the second sock over the first one, or when we pretend that we don’t know where the second sock goes. (“Does it go on your ear? No? It doesn’t? Oh, it must go on your elbow!”) 

You give fantastic hugs, kisses and cuddles. You love to “hide” and have us find you, only to “scare” us by roaring. You make a great dinosaur. Daddy sometimes carries you around as his own portable dinosaur, and you roar at things (and people) to scare them. It’s hilarious. You also do a great impression of the tiniest dinosaur, who says “roar” in a teeny-tiny little voice. You have the best laugh. 

At night, when I leave your room, you often say, “Goodnight, Mommy! I love you! You’re a banana!” (We have Elephant and Piggie to thank for that.) 

You love it when Daddy builds you a fort in the living room. You bring all your stuffies and cars inside and love having a little snack in there, and if you can see the TV from inside the fort, well, your cup runneth over. 

You can be a bit shy with other people. If I prompt you to tell someone something (i.e.: “Can you tell her where we went today?”) and you are feeling a little unsure, you have the best phrase. You look at me and ask, quietly, “Mom, can you talk about it?” That lets me know that you're not 100% comfortable yet, and would like me to keep bridging the gap a bit longer.  

We don’t rock in the rocking chair anymore, except if you wake up in the middle of the night and really need extra consolation. We do stories and songs in your bed instead. You have expressed interest in not wearing a diaper during naptime, but you also won’t let us take down the bedrail, so we’re at a bit of an impasse there. (I need to know you can get to the potty without trouble before I put you into bed without a diaper.) 

Keeping a little boy from being exposed to guns and gun play acting is like trying to stop the ocean with a teaspoon. You have started talking about “shooters” and “shooting”. You have also once or twice made reference to “killing” and “dying” (without any idea of what you are saying). Part of me knows that I can’t stop this and that it’s normal, part of me mourns your total innocence in this regard, part of me wants to put you in a bubble, and part of me wonders how to deal with it all. The best I can do is teach you that when you are playing “shooting”, you are playing something that (in real life) hurts people very badly, or even makes them die. I’m muddling through it, and hoping that if I just focus on respect and compassion, I won’t go wrong. 

We did have our first discussion about death this month. We went to the Agriculture Museum to see the baby animals, and you asked where Eeyore the Donkey was. He has always been a favourite of yours - he was less intimidating than the horses and cows, you associated him with Winnie the Pooh, and you loved to say hello to him. I had to explain to you that Eeyore died over the winter, which raised questions about where he has gone. Granny and I handled the conversation really well, I think, and you seemed pretty nonplussed about it. Of course, when we went out to lunch with some friends afterwards, you told them with great gusto that Eeyore died, and I had to provide a bit to context lest you sound like a psychopath. 

Your routine has been a bit disrupted this month. I was on leave from work for about two weeks to give myself some time to take care of myself better, and you got quite used to having me around in the mornings. So when I went back to work, you were kind of sad that I wasn’t there anymore. And Daddy has been in Boston for the last six days, so you have missed him quite a bit, too. But we’ve been Skyping with him (and - bonus last night - with Aunt Kimmy, Uncle Luc, Caleb and Noah) and that’s been lovely for everyone. 

We’ve had great museum outings, including one to the Museum of Nature where we ran into Amelia and her family. While we were there, you met her friend, who has the same name as you. You were pretty tickled about it. 

You experienced a real milestone this month - Robin took you to your first movie in a theatre. It was a quiet Friday, and there were only three of you at daycare, so she bussed you to Rainbow Cinemas to see Wreck-It Ralph. She had no idea it was your first movie in a theatre, and I think my face betrayed me a little bit when she told me about it when I picked you up. I’m glad you got the opportunity to go, and I’m so glad that Robin takes you on these great adventures. But I was feeling a little sad because I’d always pictured myself taking you to your first movie theatre experience. (Ah, the guilt of the working mommy.) I’m glad you had fun, though. You reported back joyfully that you had some slushie and some popcorn, and that made me smile. 

I’ve registered you for a gymnastics class, which starts in a couple of weeks. You love being physical, doing “tricks” and “cool things” with your body - balancing, hopping, tumbling, jumping. So it seemed like a good idea. And then you saw the “Gymtastic Gymnastics” episode of Curious George and you were hooked. I really hope you like the class, Moe, and that you can enjoy the confidence that comes with being good at something, and the joy of working at something until you succeed. 

I found a great app that teaches you to write your letters, and you are getting really good at it. You have great letter recognition (you can do the whole alphabet, in and out of context) and you love to count things, too. The fact that you love to learn makes everything so much fun. 

YOU are so much fun. Even this past week, when I’ve been pretty mentally and physically exhausted by the end of the day, it isn’t hard to remind myself that overall, you are a good listener, a polite boy, a loving child and a total sweetheart. You have a great sense of humour (even when it is potty humour - Daddy told me a great story about a hilarious pun you made), and your smile lights up the room. Keep being awesome, keep learning, keep teaching us, and keep being so easy to love. 

Bonus: The Potty Pun 
You were singing the alphabet song to Daddy about a week ago. You sang, “...j-k-l-m-n-o-...POO...q-r-s...” and sort of gave Daddy this mischievous little look, as if to say, “Did you catch that? See what I did there? Get it?” Daddy didn’t want to encourage the potty humour, but he had to admit it was a great pun. We killed ourselves laughing about it later.