It’s that time of year where I write a special birthday letter within six months of your actual birthday. Look at me… it’s only been two! I’m such an over-achiever. Let’s get down to it. All the things that make eleven-year-old Nate tick.
My dear, dear Nate,
I’m not sure where to begin. I describe you as fifth grade famous. Everywhere we go, people know your name. Baristas at Scout Coffee have stopped me to ask if I’m Nate’s mom. Girls in the lobby of the hotel in Bakersfield. Little boys from 5 Cities and Santa Barbara. You aways know their names but inaudibly return their greetings. We’re coaching you to be a louder form of friendly.
You eat, sleep, and breath soccer. You’ve been playing close to five games every weekend for the entire winter and into the spring. When you’re “resting” I find you’re watching soccer videos about the most epic players, and epic goals, and epic penalty kicks. You know the names and ratings and nationalities of so many global players my head spins.
Unfortunately, you still like Fortnite. There was a point during the pandemic where you’d OD’d on it and were done. But then your friend got it and you’ve been sucked back in. At least you still seem to choose the strong girl with pigtails and a pencil skirt as your go-to character.
If you’re not watching every game or goal on the internet, then you’re watching some guy called Spice King. You love to challenge your inner spiciness and try anything. I’m worried this will get you in trouble someday, but you just laugh mischievously in that invincible youngest sibling way of yours. I expect to enter a restaurant and find you’ve challenged Coach Woods. You’ll both be eating wings with your eyes swelled shut. You recently introduced me to Tajin and boy were you right. It’s the best.
When I got your report card I asked your brother, “What do you think Nate’s highest grade is in? Without missing a beat he correctly answered, “PE.” But you’re not just an athlete. You brought home your east coast States test with a big 100% ¡Fantastico! written across the top. The East Coast. Jacob and I spent daaaays coming up with ways to memorize all the states and capitals, thanks primarily to the hours of pre-work Sarah and I put into it in eighth grade. You and I didn’t even study. “Oh hey Mom, I had my last states test today” he says nonchalantly. We joke about three-year-old Nate saying, “I’m bewy smaht. Mom I’m bewy smaht.” And of course it’s true.
You’re still the last out of bed, the first to the breakfast table, and the last to the dinner table. You’ve developed a newfound hatred of peas, possibly a genetic attribute inherited from Nonna. Your top favorite foods are sushi, then orange chicken, and then fish tacos. Dad recently pointed out you don’t really like chocolate candy. You prefer treats like Sour Patch Kids and Takis.
This year we got another new principal and she’s already resigned. Seriously. I snorted out loud when I saw the ParentSquare message since she’s our third principal in six years. Good thing because you are not a fan. It started with a policy disagreement about the cutthroat training ground that is the Pacheco playground soccer field. Apparently the King Nate vs. King Moi rivalry reached epic levels and she declared a ban on soccer– hiring a “coach” to run drills at recess and thus a mass exodus to the blacktop. You’ve opted for basketball. Little does she know this one decision may have lasting consequences for the future of the AYSO All Stars pipeline. You kept emphasizing her “Karen” haircut. Being labeled a Karen is one of the worst possible ratings you can get from the fifth grade. I didn’t know it also came with a distinctive haircut but I googled it and yep, the YouTube generation has spoken.
This year you completely mastered the non-commital grunt– it could go either way, positive or negative. I’ve seen its powers first hand but I’ve struggled to implement it as effectively. You continue to cycle through a variety of responses that trend over time with little rhyme or reason. I got a truly satisfying laugh out of Cruz one day after school when you asked me a question and I answered with a string of Nate sayings something to the effect of, “Sussy sussy baca, dogwater, dogcheese, beans, Dorito Dorito, hello sexy bananah, bery good bery nice, bery good bery nice.”
Your default song is still “Makin’ my way downtown…” You sing it as you move from place to place. You’re really good at twerking. I hope you only do it at home. You’ve also developed a pretty impressive British accent. Sometimes we just eat lunch together and speak in our British accents and you correct my ability to say, “shdupid.” You correct me a hundred times. Not a single pronunciation meets your standards. You also especially love to repeat “bottled water.”
Over the last few weeks the girls at school have invented a new disease they call Boyrona virus. It really gets under your skin. And Principal Karen seems to side with the girls in every conflict.
You love your Spy School book. Mr. Marthaler says you’re very strong in math. He’s asked you to focus on capitalization and punctuation. you seem lukewarm on implementing this feedback
On our drives to school we try to catch the Carmen crank calls. My reception isn’t great. I try and recreate her name which is Carmen Santiago de la Hoya Ruiz Rivera Perez Tu Sabes. I like to go with versions of Carmen San Diego Rivera de Oscar Fortnite. You also love this site Edgar recommended called Hoovies.net. You quiz me to name a single movie they don’t have and so far I’m 0 for 50. The site has no discernible business model and the content seem totally legit. I’ve coached you not to get too attached. Somehow the movie industry will discover this genius hacker and shut him down, much to the sadness of millions of elementary schoolers. The “about” link literally says “Coming Soon… before we release enjoy service :)”
Oh my Nate. You are always living your best life. I love you so very much. Happy belated birthday letter.
xoxo,
Mom