A Letter to Dashiell on His 2nd Birthday

Dear Dash — 

Today you turn two and I'm absolutely astonished at much you’ve grown since your first (rather frightful) days on this planet. You probably already know the basics: Delivered in Hospital Nuevo Belén in Madrid, I held you for only a few quick moments before doctors said one of your lungs wasn’t quite ready for a post-womb world and you were whisked away into the NICU, where you remained for one nerve-wracking week. Despite undergoing what looked like an an extremely uncomfortable introduction to the outside world (so many tubes!), you remained perfectly placid throughout the ordeal; I on the hand cried like a baby.

Knowing you were the last of the Elliott brood, I made sure to appreciate each and every “baby moment” we spent together once you finally came home. When you’d awake in the middle of the night, I would often take you downstairs, then outside, where I’d direct your eyes up to the stars in the sky. You’d smile in apparent awe, overcoming me with wonder — a feeling I’d resolve to keep with me forever. 

Despite being the “baby” of the family you’ve always carried yourself like the oldest. Sizing up your older brothers, your evident intent on leapfrogging them has resulted in some rather mature interests. Here, for example, are a few of your early passions: 

 * Mopping. You love cleaning generally, but especially mopping. This is something you take very seriously, and thus won’t settle for substandard mops. Some of the only times I’ve seen you cry are when you’re given a baby mop instead of a proper, professional mop. You’ll settle for nothing less than the best. (This is basically you.) 

* Dental Hygiene. Unlike pretty much every other baby I’ve come across, you love all manner of dental hygiene. Brushing, flossing, the whole bit. If I need to get you to chillax in the bathtub, I can give you a toothbrush and some toothpaste and you’ll settle in for hours. 

* Telling your old brothers what to do. While you may be the “baby," you know you’re actually the boss, often directing Niall and Alden to perform small favors for you (e.g., giving you their scooter; refilling your cup; making them entertain you with funny faces). 

 * Beverages. Perhaps your most intense passion is for beverages, and on this topic, you are completely open minded (as opposed to your fiercely particular opinions on mops). Water (sin & con gas), milk — it hardly matters; anything in liquid form brings you joy. The only problem is that sometimes you’re so focused on beverages you forget about actual food. 

* Meat. Thankfully there’s no food group like you better than meat. The other day I made lamb chops and while your older brothers wanted their meat removed from the bone and cut into pieces, you preferred ripping the flesh off the bone like a cavebaby. Another time I roasted a chicken and had cut up some “toddler bites” for you. You looked at your plate, then mine, then reached over to grab my giant chicken leg, which you happily masticated over the course of the next hour. 

For better or worse, this aversion of “kid” food results in the usual methods of bribery not working. Whereas Alden and Niall would do virtually anything for a hit of sugar, you don’t seem to care for sweets at all, preferring instead savory snacks like pistachios, queso & jamon. 

Your obliviousness to your “baby” status is also seen at the skate park, where you’re known to commandeer teenagers’ unattended scooters/skateboards to try holding your own on the halfpipe. The older kids would probably be annoyed at you hogging the whole park but you’re frankly just too cute to bother anyone. Last week we were there and you had taken Niall’s scooter and were pulling it to the top of a ramp, running down alongside the scooter. After a few of these test runs, you resolved to try riding the scooter itself down the ramp. I was nervous watching this unfold but too impressed at your moxie to intervene. To my amazement you actually succeeded riding it all the way down the ramp, but did take a tumble after hitting maximum velocity. No big deal, though. I had some magic elixir — “agua” — and you were right back at it a few minutes later. 

As I write your vocabulary consists of at least 30 words, some of which are Spanish, such as the aforementioned “agua,” “jamon,” as well as “más” (which you’re often using to direct people to give you more jamon and/or agua). You can count to 10 in both Spanish and English and you say “Dada” with an enthusiasm that makes my heart swell in euphoria. 

This unusual bravery is also seen at the swimming pool, where you’ve never let your lack of swimming abilities stop you from jumping into the pool (where I’ll catch you and toss you high into the air). You love this so much, you get legit angry at Alden and Niall for occasionally trying to engage in the same routine. This summer at the beach, you were initially suspicious of all the sand, but soon treated it like a second skin, rolling around and getting absolutely covered. It was a mess but who am I to judge? 

Like your brothers, you have a weak spot for the dregs of YouTube, particularly fancying a cartoon called “Jay Jay,” which features insufferable music vignettes from the perspective of a boy approximately your age. As you’re exhibiting unusual maturation elsewhere, I’ve decided to grant you this particular indulgence. 

If I’m going to be completely candid, this last year hasn’t exactly been my absolute favorite — with a seemingly interminable global pandemic being only the most recent unforeseen disaster — but throughout it all, you’ve remained a happy warrior who, at least for me, stands athwart raging storms like a lighthouse, offering hope, direction, and purpose. I am also inclined to take this opportunity to apologize that things didn’t work out as I’d wanted between me and your mom; just know that whatever happens, I’ll always be the best father for you that I possibly can. Te amo un montón. 

Feliz cumpleaños! 

Dad