K, you ate two cheese sticks from the fridge this morning for breakfast.

Before you started, you asked me for ketchup to go with it.

You told me that you wrote a story called Never Eat A Cheese Stick Without Ketchup.

Of course, I asked you how it went.

Here’s the complete story I dictated for you.

You insisted that “It’s just a short story.”

I think it’s perfect.

Never Eat A Cheese Stick Without Ketchup

A cat snuck into my room.
I got so scared I knocked the glittery crayons down.
I wanted a cheese stick with ketchup.
I asked my mom and dad.
They said yes, yes, yes.

I love you.

-Dad

K you are over dance.

You cry and cry every Tuesday when it’s time to go.

We gave you the choice between dance, gymnastics, music, or whatever else you wanted to do.

You chose dance.

We want to see you make it to the end of semester recital and finish out the year before throwing in the towel. If that is what you want…

I don’t know what the right thing to do is.

Does this kind of thing even matter at four?

I mean, I don’t want you to quit things easily. And I want you to learn grit and persistence and all that.

But it’s hard to hear you cry and beg not to have to go every week.

I love you.

-Dad