Chocolate Party

Dear Connor,

You still have a serious love affair with chocolate so you can imagine how excited you were when we went to your friend Owen's make-your-own-chocolate birthday party today! The party took place in a candy store and you were as happy as, well, a kid in a candy store! When we arrived, a woman gave you a small cube of chocolate. Then you won candy during a trivia game. After the game, all of the kids helped pour chocolate into molds they'd each picked out (you picked a truck). While the chocolate molds were hardening in the freezer, you all were given empty boxes and told to fill them up with candy from the store (you filled yours to the brim with hard candy and also stuffed in about eight lollipops, so you couldn't even close the top of the box!), Then you enjoyed pretzel sticks and marshmallows you'd dipped in the chocolate fountain. After that, you decorated your chocolate truck with colored icing.

Was that the end of the party? Nope! After a brief pause from the sugar rush to have pizza, all of the kids were each given a cookie that they put through the chocolate enrober and then of course ate. Am I done yet? Nope! It's not a birthday without cake and Owen had a giant chocolate one--which you actually refused! When they woman gave you a slice of cake, you didn't even touch it and told me that you were full. You know there's been too much chocolate when even Connor doesn't want anymore!

Love,
Mom

Inverse Proportions

Dear Connor,

Why is it that the smaller your injury, the harder and louder you cry? You've had some pretty bad injuries over the years that you've barely batted an eye at but then you'll get the teeniest, tiniest little scrape on your finger--like you did today--and start screaming and wailing as if you cut your finger off. Huh?

Love,
Mom

Mailed It!

Dear Connor,

I recently told you what the expression "Nailed it!" means but you seem to have misheard me because when you jumped off of a low wall on the way to camp this morning and landed perfectly, you shouted loudly, "Mailed it!" Haha!

Love,
Mom

Fancy Clothes

Dear Connor,

My at-home wardrobe, like most people's at-home wardrobes, consists mainly of comfy clothes like loose tank tops and cotton shorts. I am by no means a slob--sometimes the tank tops and shorts are even color-coordinated!--but you seriously made me rethink the clothes I wear around the house when I wore my denim shorts while I was at home today and you called them my "fancy clothes." Yeesh.

Love,
Mom

Street Smarts

Dear Connor,

We had this conversation when I was taking you to camp this morning:

You: Why are there lines on the street?
Me: They tell you where to walk when you cross the street. That's why it's called the crosswalk.
You: You're so smart, Mommy. [brief pause] I'm smarter than you, though.

Yeah you are!

Love,
Mom

Transgender Issues

Dear Connor,

One of the things that I like about you is that you're not a macho boy. You don't shudder at "girl things" because I have taught you that there is no such thing as "girl things." You happily wear pink shirts, like playing with dollhouses and prefer Sophia the First over Ninja Turtles. And you've always been very in touch with your feminine side, which led to this conversation we had on the way to soccer camp this morning:

You: I wish the doctor had told you I was a girl.
Me: Well, you're a boy.
You: Can a boy change into a girl?
Me: Yeah, um, technically, he can. [Coincidentally, the big story in pop culture news right now is that Bruce Jenner of Olympics and Kardashian fame--you can Google him--has come out as a transgender woman.]
You: How does a boy change into a girl?
Me: Uhh, hmm, well . . .

At this point, I changed the subject. We'll come back to this conversation once I figure out how to explain transgender issues to you!

Love,
Mom

Eating Your Greens

Dear Connor,

Your sister loves vegetables but you . . . not so much. If it's green, you will not touch it unless it's pureed into a soup or chopped into small pieces and mixed into mac 'n' cheese. So you can imagine my surprise when at dinner tonight, you actually asked for some of the stir-fried broccoli we were having and you actually ate it all! Connor, is that you?

Love,
Mom