Firstborn is finishing fifth grade today and moving on to middle school. As an end of year project, they had to do a retrospective writing a few paragraphs about specific topics and making a scrapbook of the last 5 years of school. They also had to ask a parent or teacher who has known them through school to write a letter to them.
I asked firstborn if he would prefer funny or sappy. Of course, he asked for sappy and told me that his teacher would give extra credit for mentions of pee. When do you ever get a teacher like that. Always obliging, I wrote the following:
Dear Firstborn,
Eleven years. It has flown by like Harry Potter riding Buckbeak.
It’s hard to remember you as a baby, but when I look at pictures in scrapbooks, it all comes rushing back. You were such a happy baby and always liked to sleep a lot. The only struggle we ever had with you as a baby was changing your diaper. That’s right; Dad and I had to learn to change diapers at lightning speed. It was a race to cover you and seal you up before you peed on us. Something about feeling the cool air would always make you pee.
From a very young age, you always liked to use big words. People would comment on how appropriately you used words. However, like most kids, you had a lisp and couldn't pronounce some words correctly. Trying to teach you manners, we attempted to teach you to say excuse me whenever you burped. Being a child of rare intelligence, you decided that burping and passing gas were equivalent. So you used to say excuse me every time you passed gas. Unfortunately, you could not quite say excuse me. So instead, every time you passed gas (and I do mean every time), you would say, “Accuse me.”
There have been times that you have embarrassed me. These times lend themselves to great storytelling opportunities for me. For example, when you were in preschool, your school would hold a Mother’s Day Tea each year. The children dressed up and sat for tea with their mothers using fancy tea sets and little sandwiches and chocolate dipped strawberries that you kids made. And you each made us a broach made from a puzzle piece you had painted over with colors you thought I would like. And you each made a picture of your mother using paints and colors and yarn for the hair and macaroni to make a little necklace for our necks. The pictures of the mothers were posted up on the stage for as decoration. At the end of the tea, the director of the school announced that we could each take our pictures home to remember how our little children saw us. She then looked at me and mouthed the words “I’m so sorry.” I had no idea what she meant until I saw the picture. Now, Ken. I may get angry sometimes, but why did my picture have green angry looking eyes and pointy teeth. I am not an alien! I still have the picture, so don’t try to deny it.
As an older brother, you have been the best. Except for some times when your brother frustrates you, you are kind and generous to him. I know you deny that you like to get him excited so that he will get in trouble, and you don’t do it as much as you used to, but when you were both smaller, that was your favorite thing to do. A few years ago, I told you that I love being with each of you alone, but the only time I ever have to raise my voice is when I have the two of you together. To which you replied. “It’s like together we are a bomb. Lastborn is the explosive and I am the fuse. Apart, we are nothing, but put us together and bang! Very true. While I may get frustrated at your occasional explosions, I do very much enjoy both of you.
You have a unique way of looking at and analyzing your world. You bring insight to our life that we would not have had without you. I have no idea what you will really do with your life, but I am excited to see you grow up and go off on your own. I know that whatever path you choose, it will continue to be interesting and entertaining for your father and me.
Eleven years. It has flown by like Harry Potter riding Buckbeak.
It’s hard to remember you as a baby, but when I look at pictures in scrapbooks, it all comes rushing back. You were such a happy baby and always liked to sleep a lot. The only struggle we ever had with you as a baby was changing your diaper. That’s right; Dad and I had to learn to change diapers at lightning speed. It was a race to cover you and seal you up before you peed on us. Something about feeling the cool air would always make you pee.
From a very young age, you always liked to use big words. People would comment on how appropriately you used words. However, like most kids, you had a lisp and couldn't pronounce some words correctly. Trying to teach you manners, we attempted to teach you to say excuse me whenever you burped. Being a child of rare intelligence, you decided that burping and passing gas were equivalent. So you used to say excuse me every time you passed gas. Unfortunately, you could not quite say excuse me. So instead, every time you passed gas (and I do mean every time), you would say, “Accuse me.”
There have been times that you have embarrassed me. These times lend themselves to great storytelling opportunities for me. For example, when you were in preschool, your school would hold a Mother’s Day Tea each year. The children dressed up and sat for tea with their mothers using fancy tea sets and little sandwiches and chocolate dipped strawberries that you kids made. And you each made us a broach made from a puzzle piece you had painted over with colors you thought I would like. And you each made a picture of your mother using paints and colors and yarn for the hair and macaroni to make a little necklace for our necks. The pictures of the mothers were posted up on the stage for as decoration. At the end of the tea, the director of the school announced that we could each take our pictures home to remember how our little children saw us. She then looked at me and mouthed the words “I’m so sorry.” I had no idea what she meant until I saw the picture. Now, Ken. I may get angry sometimes, but why did my picture have green angry looking eyes and pointy teeth. I am not an alien! I still have the picture, so don’t try to deny it.
As an older brother, you have been the best. Except for some times when your brother frustrates you, you are kind and generous to him. I know you deny that you like to get him excited so that he will get in trouble, and you don’t do it as much as you used to, but when you were both smaller, that was your favorite thing to do. A few years ago, I told you that I love being with each of you alone, but the only time I ever have to raise my voice is when I have the two of you together. To which you replied. “It’s like together we are a bomb. Lastborn is the explosive and I am the fuse. Apart, we are nothing, but put us together and bang! Very true. While I may get frustrated at your occasional explosions, I do very much enjoy both of you.
You have a unique way of looking at and analyzing your world. You bring insight to our life that we would not have had without you. I have no idea what you will really do with your life, but I am excited to see you grow up and go off on your own. I know that whatever path you choose, it will continue to be interesting and entertaining for your father and me.
Firstborn got to read the letter in front of the class and they all enjoyed it. But they insisted that he bring the picture in for the whole class to see.
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