This past year has been a rollercoaster of emotions, both for us and the world at large. Queen Elizabeth II passed away, which led to over a quarter of a million people lining up to see her coffin and pay their respects (and/or air their grievances). Russia invaded the Ukraine to try toppling its government, and continues its charge to take hold of the country and endanger many people who live there. The James Webb Telescope sent back images of stars 13 billion light years away, which stunned and amazed both scientists and the general public. Last, but certainly not least, you got to see Hamilton on Broadway...without me. Not bitter about that at all. Nope, not me...

When I wrote last year's blog post your Mom and I were in the heavy planning stages of trying to have us move out of Brooklyn. We had talked about it for years before then, with our choices being to move further East to Connecticut or back to Indiana where we have family. We went back and forth over the pros and cons of each numerous times, with emotions high over what the right decision should be. Do we move closer to friends who are like family, while still being close to NYC, but don't know anyone else and have to restart our lives in an area we don't really know? Or, do we move closer to family, where we would have a bit more support, know both the area and some of the people in it and have access to Chicago to get our city fix? The choice was not easy, but in the end we decided to go back to Indiana. We wanted you to have a stronger connection to your family, a bit of a slower pace, no alternate-side parking and no noisy kids in the apartment below us sounding like they're having gymnastics meets night and day.

So while your Mom and I were busy trying to find a house 700 miles away from where we were in Brooklyn, you were busy with so many things on your end. We took you to get your ears pierced at an awesome studio, where the person working there nerded out with us over Marvel shows and made you feel more comfortable about what was going to happen. Then after he pierced the first ear, you realized how much it hurt and decided there was no way in hell you were getting the other one done. You went to Broadway shows like Six, Freestyle Love Supreme, Beetlejuice, and yes, Hamilton, which thrilled you to no end and skyrocketed your love for musical theater to even greater heights. You got to sing at your school's 100th year anniversary ceremony with a group of other classmates and then to top it all off, you finished 5th grade!!! You Mom and I (and plenty of other parents) commiserated over how it felt like just the day before we were holding your hand, walking you up to the kindergarten entrance of the school and pumping you up with the courage to go in by yourself. By 5th grade it was you distancing yourself from us while you walked with your friends, the ever common eye rolls over how uncool we were and the heartbreaking, "Do you really have to walk with me to and from school?"

The plan to leave New York was set in motion, which meant we not only had to pack all of our things, but we had to say goodbye to our friends and the city that we loved. So amidst all the chaos, cardboard and packing tape we made the time to do just that. We went to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, where you became a junior park ranger after completing a scavenger hunt. We went to the Pride Parade and cheered people on as they proclaimed that love truly is love, no matter who you are. We checked out some favorite graffiti spots to remind us that art is everywhere and can pop up in the most unexpected places. We spent time with local and not-so-local friends to shed tearful goodbyes, knowing we wouldn't get to see them again for some time. And, because we knew we wouldn't get good quality where we were headed, we ate our favorite bagels. Lots and lots of them. Damn, why is it so hard to find good ones outside of NY???

Moving day finally arrived, and it went exactly as we thought: full of stress and exhaustion. But, with the help of some workers we hired and really awesome neighbors, the truck was finally packed and we were on the way to our very first house! We arrived to the smiling faces of your grandparents who had already done a ton of work to get things ready, but were still eager to help us get settled. Now came the arduous task of unpacking and making the house feel like our home. As those first days passed we started getting more comfortable and wanted to explore the neighborhood to see who lived there, and maybe find some new friends for you.

One day we strolled up and down our block and met a few friendly grown-ups who welcomed us and let you know that while their kids weren't around at the time, they'd be happy to meet you soon. The next day we went out to dinner and as we pulled back into our driveway you pointed out a group of 6 or 7 kids down the block, wondering who they were and when you might get the chance to meet them. As your Mom and I took care of a few things you peeked your head out the window and noticed that those kids were walking in our direction. "Mom, Dad, those kids are headed this way!" A few seconds later: "MOM! DAD! THOSE KIDS ARE AT OUR FRONT DOOR! WHAT DO WE DO?!?!?!?" We laughed and opened the door to greet them, introduced ourselves and tried to remember their names. They asked for yours, started chatting with you and within a few moments you turned to us and simply said, "You can go now!"

I sometimes take for granted how resilient kids can be, no matter how many times I hear people say it. We had our fears and worries about making this move and what it might do to you. Part of this relocation also had us making the difficult decision for you to repeat 5th grade; not because we didn't think you were smart enough (because you are one smart person), but because doing so would give you an extra year in grade school to make friends and level the playing field for you physically and developmentally. We talked to your teacher in Brooklyn about it, your upcoming principal, friends, family, psychics and fortune tellers. In the end, we left the decision up to the one person it would affect the most: you. We talked over the pros and cons of it, how we felt about it, but most importantly we listened hard to how you felt and what you wanted. We knew whatever you chose would be the right thing to do, and that's exactly what you did. And we couldn't be more proud of you for it.

Having a house of our own has brought a slew of both good and not-so-good things into our lives. We finally have a yard where you can run around, play with friends and eventually build snowmen whenever that weather decides to set in. But with that yard comes a lot of work: mowing, raking leaves, weeding flower beds and dealing with bugs that kill our grass. You've never had to do yard work before, so seeing you doing something like raking leaves was both entertaining and a lesson in frustration for all of us. After just a few minutes of helping us with the leaves you asked, "Can I take a break now?" Then you promptly disappeared inside the house, grabbed a snack and threw a YouTube video on your tablet, thinking we would handle the rest of the work. Sadly for you that was not the case, and boy were you not happy. You grumbled, yelled and cried as I dragged you outside to help us, and at this point I felt less like a parent and more like a hostage negotiator. "Sorry, we can't give in to your demands of doing absolutely nothing while we do all the work." "Yes, I know you hate it and us." "Here's what I can offer you: a piece of candy, the chance to jump into the pile of leaves and $5 in unmarked bills." "If you don't want that, the only thing I can give you is an all expenses paid trip to your room and me changing the WiFi password." "What'll it be?"

**“Why yes, I’m thrilled to be here. Can’t you tell?”**

Living in a house versus a 2 bedroom apartment also means we have a lot more space to clean and take care of. For example, you now have your very own bathroom, which at first you were super excited about decorating and making your own. Then you learned that it's your responsibility to clean it, and even do simple things like keeping toilet paper on the roll, which has lead you to grumble, fuss and try to avoid the task whenever we ask you to do it. All this space also allows us to spread our belongings out and make certain areas our own, outside of our bedrooms. You have an art area, complete with a desk, that you love working at but refuse to tidy up. So you'll pile things up, or push them aside, and make just enough room to work on your next project or your homework, much to my frustration. You've also gotten very proficient at making messes or leaving things all around the house: dirty dishes, socks, scraps of paper, markers, pens and random school work are just a few of the fun things we have to remind you to pick up after yourself. Trust me, it is just as fun for us (mostly me) to have to tell you to pick up after yourself as it is for you to hear it day in and day out. Is twelve the year that stops happening? I really, really hope so.

While I would love to expound further on the headaches you are providing us these days, I'd rather focus on the good stuff. The things that make me proud to be your dad and ease my worries that you are not out to make my life harder than it should be (and perhaps, one day, you'll come to that realization about me). While starting a new school has had its challenges, you've quickly adapted to it and made a ton of friends. It brings a smile to my face seeing you walk back from school (we meet you half way, so you get some autonomy) laughing, joking and chatting loudly with them. You've taken some risks with extracurricular activities as well, something we hadn't done until the move. At first it was the track team, which fizzled out once you had a fall, scraped up your knee and decided that running was not as cool as it seemed. Next you did something that was both 100% in your wheelhouse but also incredibly nerve-wracking: you tried out for a spot in a musical that our town's performing arts theater was putting on: Little House on the Prairie. Not only did you have to sing a piece from a song, which we knew you were capable of, but you also had to learn a short bit of choreography on the spot and perform it. Out of 70 kids and adults that tried out, you were one of the 40-something people that got a part. I cannot express the pride we felt, not just when you shrieked after learning you got in, but also when we watched you up on the stage the weekend of the shows. All the hard work you put in with rehearsals, balancing that with school and home responsibilities, paid off. Once it was all done you were exhausted, sick with an ear infection, yet incredibly determined to make the tryouts the following weekend for the next show (Elf: The Musical). And guess what? Not only did you get in, your Mom got a part too! As I write this you're both at rehearsal, with the first show just 5 days away. Now I get to sit in the audience and beam with pride over both of my girls being in a show, and I can't wait.

**Getting fitted for Little House on the Prairie garb**

Being your dad continues to be both challenging and rewarding as the years pass. We butt heads a lot, but I do my best to try to show you how proud of you I am and how much I love you every day. I know I fail often. I know I repeat myself way too much and seem to bother you all the time with things that may seem trivial or downright frustrating at times, but in the end I'm trying to help you become a good, responsible human being who also won't annoy someone some day because you've left 6 different cups, half-filled with water, on your night stand. I am so proud of the person you are, and it brings me joy to see you do things like greet crossing guards on our way to school, say thank you to someone without prompting or, sometimes out of the blue, even ask if we need help with something. We still have some work to do on that last one, but you're getting there. Speaking of walking to school: yes, I still walk with you. Partly because it's dark in the mornings (especially once the time changed) and there aren't a lot of people out around here, but mostly because I get to spend time with you one-on-one. Most of our short time on those walks is spent doing things like making up songs, chatting about shows we're watching together or discussing things you need to remember to do at school (turn in homework, ask about missing homework, bring your homework HOME). But then you'll surprise me with something truly amazing, like pointing out the stars shining or stating how beautiful the sky is as the sun rises. Things like this are what made me want to move out this way: the quiet moments where we can just reflect on the beauty of life around us. It's not that we couldn't do that in Brooklyn, but light pollution, honking horns and the ever present danger of someone running a stop sign as we crossed a street didn't exactly help bring those things into focus.

You've got so much more life ahead of you, and I can't wait to see what's in store. Until then, I hope you'll enjoy some of the things I valued by growing up in the Midwest. Sure, there's plenty that I don't like (limited diversity, the political views and the gun culture), but I'm hopeful that the pros outweigh the cons. The people here are friendly, you've got family to lean on and love you unconditionally and you can eventually learn how to parallel park without the worry that someone will steal the spot you're trying to get into. I think we all still miss aspects of the life we had in Brooklyn, and we'll try to fill in those gaps by heading up to Chicago or visiting the surrounding areas to discover new favorite places and things to do. Until then, keep being the awesome kiddo that you are, keep trying out new things and pushing your boundaries and keep doing your best to remember that I love you. So, very much. Happy birthday, baby girl.

Love,

Dad