Coronavirus Day 73 — Nate’s Nine

My dearest Nate,

It’s that time of year where your birthday was 13 weeks ago and I’m just now getting around to writing my favorite letter of the year– your birthday letter.  The one where I do my best to capture just a little glimpse into who you are, what you represent, and your latest faves in potty talk.

So 2020.  We had your birthday party.  Our very first friend slumber party on Saturday, March seventh.  And then, as luck would have it, the lockdown descended upon the earth seven days later.  So this year isn’t so much what you’re like as a nine-year-old, but more like what you’re like as a nine-year-old under pandemic house arrest.

I also thought it might be fun to use Maestra Zatt’s template for your Mother’s Day poem and so, without further ado, an ode to Nate’s Nine:

You are living your best life.  Well, prior to lockdown.  Now you’re becoming one with the couch.

You love soccer.  And the dreaded video games.  Maestra Zatt says the Pacheco recess soccer games are as competitive as the Costa Rican Primera División.

You hope we get a president that is a girl.  At random times you tell me this is what we need.  I agree.

You see all of the wonders in the seafood case at the grocery store and want to buy them.  Crab legs?  Octopus?  Clams?  Giant fillets of halibut?  “Let’s get that.”

You hear what your body is telling you.  You listen to yourself.  You recently decided you don’t feel good when you eat bread, so you stopped.  Your stomach aches stopped.  You like “stackers” for lunch, or what I call cheese tacos– pickles and meat wrapped in a piece of cheese.

You feel too sensitive to music.  You love to dance.  You seem to know all the words to the songs on the radio.  Your latest fave is the “I got the mojo deals” song.

You dream about creepy monsters touching you.  When prompted with this question in various ways, you take it literally.  Every time.

You want ice cream.  From McConnell’s.  You appreciate quality ice cream.  Dog Burstein’s isn’t even worth it.  Double peanut butter chip is the best.  Eureka lemon marrionberry is second best.

You need grass.  And we finally have it.  You put it on your Christmas list.  And the turf guys finished installing it last Tuesday.  Now you need a full-sized goal.

You give things away easily.  A couple of weeks ago you cleaned up in a game of Monopoly.  You’re a flexible negotiator.  You empathize with the other side.  You cut me a break when I couldn’t pay.  You finished the game with “two death rows and 38 100 dollar bills.”

You would like to go to England for a Man City game.

I love my Nate because he is generous, smart, feisty, and funny.  I love my Nate because he is exactly who he is.  Who he is meant to be.

I love you Baba ganoush,

Mama

 

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