Dear Robert

Dear Robert,

If/When you peruse this blog later on in your life, you may notice a distinct lack of posts specifically about you at this age. Please don't be alarmed. Let me explain a little:

1. You don't like getting your picture taken.
2. You don't tell me about school.
3. You don't tell me about Primary.
4. We routinely spend 44 hours a week (out of 91 waking hours a week) away from each other.
5. You're in a bit of a grouchy phase. I think it has to do with your enormous school class being chaotic and you adjusting to a long-term sub while your teacher is on maternity leave. And it might be related to your sudden dislike of every food on the planet that isn't plain noodles or bananas...you're probably kinda hungry all the time. But these are just guesses, of course. You prefer to keep such things to yourself.
6. The interactions we do share mostly fall into one of these four categories, in order of time spent:

• Household business, 20-30 times a day, every day
• Piano practice (1-on-1), 20-60 minutes a day, 5-6 days a week
• Mom Time (1-on-1), 30 minutes, once a week, reading Harry Potter out loud
• Brief bursts of creative, thoughtful pondering and figuring and lively discussion. You tell me about what you're imagining or working on in that moment. You ask questions and we look up answers. You tell me a solution to something that's been bothering you, or me. You give me hug after hug after hug whenever you feel the urge.

I wish I could hold on to those bursts a little longer. Maybe those are what I should be recording on the blog...for me AND you. Yes. I'll do that. Or try to, anyway. So, what bursts happened today?

• We practiced the piano before school and you whooshed through some tough bits that had been bothering you. You were so delighted that you couldn't stop smiling. 
• You told me that your friends had declared all Roberts as "Amazing Bellies" with bellies that could pop off and take any shape they liked. You thought this was a great coincidence because you happen to have the skill of sucking in your gut and sticking it out like a pregnant lady in a very dramatic manner (especially after a large noodle dinner and a lava cake dessert tonight), which makes your belly pretty amazing. 
• I asked you about your upcoming birthday party (turning 8 is a "big party" year) and you got excited about the possibilities. You really want to go rollerskating at Skateland, which is pretty much my idea of purgatory, but maybe we can find a compromise. 
• You tried to earn a steak dinner by doing a push-up handstand off the floor. Dad may have to pay out sooner than he anticipated.

Yeah, this burst thing might work out.

You designed and sewed these cape shirts for yourself and your brothers one day. Alice helped you with threading the sewing machine and working out a couple kinks, but you did the whole project on your own. And they're great!

Love,
Mom