My dearest Jacob,
It’s November and I’ve let the timing of my annual letter get away from me. As you would say, at least ten times a day… My bad. I find it daunting to roll-up all of your life into a neat little birthday blog. I don’t even know… I can make your hands clap. This year I’m inspired to describe middle school Jacob with the current eighth grade vocab of the day, as indicated in italicized bold.
At thirteen, you’re more than half way through middle school. I’m fairly certain no one has ever said this about a middle schooler but it’s absolutely true– it’s made you even better. Rather than turning into an angsty, hormonal, irritated version of yourself, you’ve mellowed out. I mean don’t get me wrong, your eyes still roll regularly. You have your annoyed outbursts. And I am a reliable source of laughable moments, like recently, when I discovered there is hot sauce at Taco Bell called Diablo Sauce… explaining the name of last year’s soccer team. Brah. It’s amazing I can even function in the world. That’s cap. But when you snap at me you always apologize and are quick with a sincere hug.
From seventh to eighth grade you’ve shot up. You were one of the smallest guys on your soccer team last year, but that’s no longer the case. I’m pretty certain we’re currently dead even in height and I’m about to fall from second to third place. You’re a real string bean. And a bottomless pit. You tell me, “I’m so hungy, Mom.” In five minutes you can inhale $32 in grocery store sushi if I’m not fiscally vigilant. I have to carefully manage our supplies of kettle chips, ginger ale, and premium ice cream as they call to you day and night. Facts.
About 3 months ago you got your Invisalign. I was a bit worried about “removable braces” and the element of taking them in and out every time you eat and drink. Your fingernails have never looked better. You even remember to change your trays on Tuesday nights without any help. Goodness knows it’s never crossed my mind. I just came up with the idea to call it Toothsday. Cue teenage lame sigh. Síííííííííííí.
And speaking of food, the latest Jakery Cakery has been particularly prolific. You’ve made several dozen gluten free chocolate chip cookies, adjusting the recipe till you get it just right. You also made a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting decorated with raspberries. Mrs. Carlin from Home Ec would be impressed. Everything has turned out boatloads better than the ill-conceived zucchini panini of last year. Now you have your sights set on recreating Duke’s ice cream hula pie and learning a family staple, Texas Sheet Cake. Nate is thoroughly supportive, Suey.
You’ve been playing AYSO and your Inflation team has done well. This year you’ve had a couple of games where you scored two goals in a game which has boosted your confidence… though sometimes you run your mouth more than your feet. Your games are on Wednesday nights at 7PM which means freezing cold spectating and dinner from a bag. Just chill, Mom. Just chill. Literally.
Your other favorite form of exercise is your Oculus VR headset. Flipping Zuckerberg. But in all seriousness, you lost at least ten pounds during the pandemic playing gorilla tag. It’s insane. You might as well be doing a kickboxing class you’re so sweaty. You’re also super humble to the players on the other end of the metaverse– only exclaiming “I’m so goated” like fifty times a session. I scold you for telling strangers to “Be better.” It’s having little effect. You’ve had to move VR to your room since we’ve set-up life in the barn… too much furniture impeding your virtual talents. I’m not sure what your favorite game is right now, but I do know that I don’t have to yell, “Don’t hit me, don’t hit me” every time I try to cross the living room. No cap.
You’ve taken schoolwork very seriously this year and are excelling in all of your classes. Every Monday morning I get a text with your grades and I’ve lost count of your straight A streak. Miss Mooney has transitioned from your seventh grade math teacher to your eighth grade yearbook teacher. She’s still your fave. You recently told me that if you want to get good grades, you have to give the teacher what they want. I’m relieved you’re thirteen and have figured this out on your own. Some people never figure this out over their entire working lives. I got a very sincere snort of laughter when I texted you all your A’s, including two A+’s, with the preface: You’re so goated with the sauce. Yo, I can hang.
You’ve made so many friends over the last year and a half I can’t even count them on two hands. You call them Da Boyz. Plus Izzy. Izzy is Brady’s longterm girlfriend and we’ve all gotten to enjoy Brady’s mom’s stories. We also appreciate the stories of Santiago and his revolving door of girlfriends. The years when you didn’t want to go to Farmer’s have now been replaced with a desire to hang at Farmer’s with your friends so you can eat and visit Captain Nemo’s. One time we went to said establishment to look at War Hammer paints and I had kind of a backpack purse on. The guy behind the counter wanted me to put my backpack on the counter to prevent shoplifting and I was like, “Don’t you worry, there is nothing in this store that I want.” Bruv. Which totally came out unintentionally sincere and intolerably rude. I’m just really allergic to windowless Dungeons and Dragons stores– they don’t bring out the best in me. To your credit you didn’t pretend not to know me.
You have become such an important and reliable partner to me in so many ways. You are quick to help out. If I need a pep talk, you’ve got it nailed. And I’ve finally reached my decades long dream of breezing through an airport while my sons lug my luggage.
I love you JJ. You are growing into the most amazing version of yourself. Funny, creative, smart, and hard working. You do be amazing. And so humble 😉 In all seriousness, I couldn’t be prouder of you.
Muchas smoochas,
Mom