K, happy birthday!

Five. Months. Late.

Of course, we celebrated your actual birthday this last year.

But because of the insanity of Rona – we were not able to have a party.

In past years we have celebrated your birthday with only family too.

And you wanted a proper party this year.

So we rented out Rock Solid, invited a dozen of your friends from school, and turned y’all lose on the gymnastics equipment.

Afterwards we ate cupcakes in an upstairs hospitality room and played air hockey and foosball as everyone left.

I felt like you relished it all.

Pop and Grams came over and ate dinner with us afterward.

Since it was Sunday, we ate waffles, eggs, and bacon.

You are so beautiful. And you are loved so dearly.

I love you.

-Dad

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