Dear M,
You, like lots of third children, get the butt end of the bread loaf when it comes to things like baby books and timely birthday letters. This letter is coming almost two weeks past your 12th birthday.
Not to say you're happy with the scraps, but you don't know any different. And you have thrived nonetheless.
Why was your birthday this year a sad state of affairs, you ask?
Your 12th birthday was preceded by your COVID diagnosis so that threw a wrench in the works. The events and activities we had planned for the quarantine days got pushed back to the following week which meant your birthday and the days surrounding it were overwhelming.
Plus, your birthday has, for the past seven years, been highjacked by field hockey season. So the week of your birthday we added all the stuff we rescheduled from COVID quarantine plus the regular field hockey schedule fuckery.
Your brother decided to be a bit of an asshat on your birthday, too, as a result of the aforementioned schedule fuckery and him being 14 and hormonal and a middle schooler.
This birthday is one you won't remember and that is probably the very best thing. It was a complete pfffttt, although you did get chocolate cake and a big ass balloon that is still full of helium.
You are pretty wonderful kid. Not perfect, of course. You are an absolute bear in the morning. You HATE HATE HATE the early mornings of middle school. I have to start waking you at 6 am so that you have gotten your grumpiness out of your system by 6:50.
And you are still tremendously undecided about everything, including what you want to eat. You interrupted the show Daddy and I were watching last night because you couldn't decide what ice cream you wanted to eat, and you needed my help. AND I STILL DON'T KNOW HOW EXACTLY I AM TO HELP YOU DECIDE WHAT YOU ARE HUNGRY FOR.
Getting your first COVID shot this past weekend.
But aside from those two minor things, you are the best youngest child I have and maybe the best youngest child ever. You are so mature about doing your schoolwork and taking initiative and being responsible. That is the benefit of being the third kid. I could send you off right this minute to college, and you'd probably be ok.
You and me and a cat playing chess. You always, always win.
You are the person in the family that everyone almost never gets angry or upset with. You are G's favorite and N's favorite, and they always adore you even when they are cat-fighting each other (although now that they are both teens, that happens less).
You are S******s' best buddy; she runs to you and meows and hollers constantly. She chases you around the house and is very upset when you lock her out of your bedroom while you play with the VR headset. I tell Daddy that he and S**** are ridiculous together, but you and S******s are equally ridiculous.
You love bubble wrap (a longtime fascination), and you are reading One-Punch Man and Attack on Titan graphic novels. Your favorite class this year is social studies which I was surprised by because last year you hated social studies (but maybe that was the NTI version of social studies).
I am savoring this year because your body is still little boy size and skinny, and I know we are truly in short-time mode there.
You have changed so much over the years but are still, and always will be, my sweet bonus baby boy.
Love,
Momma
