Dear Connor,
When you were an infant, I would write one of these Dear Connor blog entries every month, to record your milestones and capture the moments that I knew would go by so fast. After you turned three, I started only writing these entries twice a year, on your birthday and on your half-birthday. Once you turned seven, the updates became yearly; and once the pandemic happened, they kind of stopped entirely.
Which is really too bad, because you certainly haven’t stopped changing.
Having a tween boy apparently means having to specify exactly how one washes one’s armpits.
Today was Connor’s stagger-start day, where half of his class was in attendance. Tomorrow, the other half will have their staggered start, then Wednesday will be the first full day for all fifth-graders.
“Your breakfast is ready — oh. I mean, your breakfast is still too hot to eat. You’d better stay here for a few minutes.”
Connor (age 10), first thing in the morning: I’m hungry!
Me (unamused): You wanna try that again?
Connor: OK… May I please be hungry?