What an unbelievable travel baseball season this was.

Watching Oliver grow this year wasn’t just about the numbers—it was about watching him become the kind of baseball player every coach hopes to have.

From the very first winter workout to the final out of the season, he put in the work. Even when he wasn’t able to practice right away, he never missed a winter workout. He was there for his teammates, listening to every instruction, learning, encouraging others, and helping to throw soft-toss BP because he simply wanted to be part of the team.

That says everything about the player and teammate he is.

This season, Oliver became a fixture in the lineup because he earned it. Every time he stepped into the batter’s box, pitchers knew they weren’t getting an easy out. He battled through every at-bat, worked deep counts, sprayed line drives, took his walks when they came, and then wreaked havoc on the bases. His smile never disappeared, either—which I’m sure made a few pitchers wonder how someone having that much fun could be so difficult to get out. Nothing exemplifies that more than his first ever inside the park home-run. I’m pretty sure he could have circled the bases twice that at bat and no one would have blinked an eye!!!

Another part of Oliver’s game that really took off this season was his pitching. He developed into a reliable arm that coach could hand the ball to with confidence (somewhat). He attacked hitters with a fastball that surprised a lot of kids, and when he was around the zone, he was downright electric. There were innings where he’d strike out the side and make it look easy… and then, there were also those innings where he’d issue a few free passes before finding the strike zone again… but the funny part is that even then, he rarely gave up any hits, if any. It almost became a running joke: he was either going to strike out the side… or walk the bases loaded before striking everyone out anyway. Watching his confidence and control grow throughout the season was one of the biggest highlights of the year, and it’s exciting to think about how much more is still ahead.

What makes me the proudest isn’t that he threw so hard on the mound, or finished near the top of almost every offensive category. It’s that he genuinely loves baseball. He loves competing. He loves practicing. He loves learning from his coaches. And most of all, he loves taking the field every weekend with his best friends. You can see it in the way he plays—with energy, confidence, and joy.

Every coach talks about wanting players who are coachable, dependable, selfless, and willing to outwork everyone else. That’s exactly who Oliver strives to be. He’s the first to celebrate a teammate’s success, the first to ask how he can improve, and the type of kid who leaves everything he has on the field.

A huge thank you to Coach Joe and Coach Kevin for believing in him all season and helping him grow into the player he is becoming. Thank you to Coach Hector and Jose for all of the hitting instruction, and Coach Ralph for the countless pitching lessons. We couldn’t be more grateful for everything you’ve poured into him.

Oliver finished the season:
🏆 1st in Stolen Bases
🏆 1st in Walks
🥈 2nd in Runs
⚾ Top 3 on the team in Batting Average, RBIs, OBP and OPS.

Some losses feel like wins.

Tonight didn’t end with our team on top of the scoreboard, but that hardly mattered.
What mattered was the camaraderie, the laughter in the dugout, the encouragement between teammates, and the pure joy of kids playing the game they love. That’s what Little League baseball is all about.

And for Jackson, it was a night he will never forget.

On May 18, 2026, Jax recorded his first career strikeout. One batter, three strikes, and a moment that will be etched in our family’s baseball memory forever. The smile on his face says it all.

To top it off, he was awarded the game ball.

Not because we won.
Not because of stats.
But because of the effort, the perseverance, and the excitement of reaching a milestone he has worked so hard for.

Baseball has a funny way of teaching kids that success isn’t always measured by the final score. Sometimes the biggest victories come in the small moments—a first strikeout, supportive teammates, and the confidence that grows with every inning.
Proud doesn’t even begin to describe how we feel.

Way to go, Jax. ⚾🏆💛 #FirstCareerStrikeout #GameBall #ProudDad #LittleLeagueMemories #BaseballMoments

Dear Jax,

Twelve.

It’s one of those numbers that doesn’t feel like it should carry as much weight as it does. It’s still tucked between childhood and whatever comes next, still young enough that you’re figuring things out in real time, but old enough that I can see the edges of the person you’re becoming starting to sharpen a bit more each year.

I remember writing your first birthday letters thinking I had all the time in the world to understand you. Like growing up was something I could map out, predict, maybe even slow down if I paid close enough attention. I know better now.

You don’t slow down.

You expand.

This year I’ve noticed the way you think before you speak more often. The way you notice things other people miss. The way you care—sometimes quietly, sometimes in bursts that surprise even you. There’s something about twelve that starts to show the kind of person you’re choosing to be when no one is directing the moment for you.

That part matters more than anything else.

Not the grades. Not the stats. Not the wins or losses or comparisons that the world will try to hand you.

Just that quiet question you answer every day without saying it out loud: Who am I going to be when it’s just me deciding?

I see you working on that answer.

And I want you to know—I’m proud of you in ways that don’t always fit into the usual words. Not just for what you do right, but for how you keep going when things feel off, or hard, or confusing. That’s where character actually lives. Not in the highlight moments, but in the in-between ones no one claps for.

Twelve is also where the world starts getting louder. People will start telling you what you should be, how you should act, what you should want. Some of it will be helpful. Some of it won’t fit you at all.

You don’t have to rush to sort it all out.

You just have to keep showing up as yourself, even while you’re still figuring out who that is.

That’s more than enough.

As your dad, I still have moments where I look at you and see flashes of the little kid you were—then it shifts, and I see something new layered on top of it. It’s a strange thing, watching someone you love grow in real time. It’s beautiful and a little bit heartbreaking all at once.

Because every year you don’t just get older.

You also move a little further from who you’ve been.

But I need you to know something clearly: no matter how far you go, you are never outgrowing my love for you. It doesn’t shrink to fit the version of you that was—it just keeps expanding to meet the version of you that is.

So on your 12th birthday, I hope you give yourself room to enjoy it. To laugh a little louder than usual. To do something that makes no sense except that it feels like fun. To be fully in it, without worrying about what comes next for just a little while.

Because you’ll have plenty of time for everything else.

Happy birthday, Jax.

Keep going. Keep becoming. Keep surprising me.

I’m with you in all of it.

Love Always,

Dad

April 27, 2023

April 27, 2024

April 27, 2025

April 27, 2026

Mom,

Happy Birthday.

We were going to just say “Love you” and call it a day… but apparently that’s “not thoughtful enough.”

So here we go.

First of all, congratulations on surviving another year of raising us.

That alone deserves cake.

We know we don’t always make it easy.
There’s the constant complaining.
The arguing about absolutely nothing.
The selective hearing.
The mysterious disappearance of clean towels.

And yet… you’re still here.

Still making sure we’re up on time.
Still reminding us about homework we “already did” (we didn’t).
Still driving us everywhere like you’re running a free Uber service.

We act like we don’t notice, but we do.

We notice that you show up to everything. You are the best cheerleader in the history of the world!
We notice that you somehow know when something’s wrong — even when we say, “It’s fine.”
We notice that when we’re stressed, you’re calm.
And when we’re being ridiculous, you’re… mostly calm.

You’re the only person who can hug us, feed us, help us, and threaten to take our electronics away — all in the same five minutes.

It’s impressive.

You keep this whole thing running.
You care about stuff we forget to care about

1. Trumpets
2. Water bottles
3. Our Sweatshirts
4. Vegatables

And even when we pretend getting older means we don’t need as much help, we’ll always need you.

We’re really lucky you’re our mom.

So today, we hope you get:

– A quiet cup of coffee
– Zero arguments
– No one asking “What’s for dinner?”
– And maybe at least one full hour where nobody needs anything.

(We can’t promise it. But we hope.)

Happy Birthday, Mom.

Love,

Your two favorite sons;

Jackson and Oliver

Dear Oliver,

Today you turn nine, and somehow that number feels both impossible and exactly right. Another year older, another year watching you grow into more of who you already are… curious, energetic, kind, and endlessly yourself.

You move through the world with a confidence (and craziness) that still amazes me. Whether you’re running full speed toward something you love or quietly figuring things out in your own way, you approach life with a determination that can’t be taught. You don’t half-do things. You give effort, heart, and enthusiasm—even when it’s hard, even when it doesn’t come easy. Everyday I’m reminded how uniquely you you are

This past year, I’ve seen you stretch in ways big and small. You tried new things. You stuck with things that challenged you. You learned when to push forward and when to pause. And through it all, you kept that smile… the one that shows up when you’re proud of yourself or when you know you gave it your best.

Watching you with Wednesday is one of my favorite parts of being your dad. The laughter, the chaos, and those quieter moments when you’re just together show a bond that only boys and dogs can have. No matter what, I know you’ll always have each other—and that brings me more comfort than you’ll ever know.

You have a way of filling a room just by being in it. Your humor sneaks up on people. Your joy is contagious. And even on the loud days… the exhausting days… I wouldn’t trade a single second of being your dad. You remind me constantly that life is meant to be lived with excitement, curiosity, and a little bit of crazy.

As you step into your ninth year, my hope for you is simple: keep being you. Keep asking questions. Keep trying. Keep believing in yourself, even when things don’t go perfectly. You are loved more than you can imagine… not just today, but every single day.

Happy 9th Birthday, Oliver.
I’m so proud of you.

Love,
Dad

New Years Eve here is simple. Chinese takeout, a couple of movies and bed before 10pm. LOVE IT.

As we’re heading upstairs the Oliver asked Steph if he could sleep in “her” bed.

She said, “no, sleep in your own bed. You have your new bunk beds now!!!”

He said “then why does dad always get to sleep in “your” bed?”

…I’m not sure my kids understand that I’m not actually one of them.

My poor wife.

There are two kinds of parents in December.

Those who say, “We’re not allowing this Elf on the Shelf in our house.”

And those who are currently whisper-yelling at a tiny Santa Helper at 10:47 p.m. because it has not moved and bedtime was sixty minutes ago.

We are the second kind.

Our elf arrived again this year like a seasonal celebrity—small, silent, confident, and immediately in charge. From day one, it was clear this wasn’t going to be a low-effort visit. This elf had ideas.

One morning, we woke up to a glowing sign that read something along the lines of:
“Find me in a place that I can take an ELFIE SELFIE!”
Signed lovingly,
Elfie.

First of all, bold move. Second of all, this elf now has branding?!?!

And there he was—later that day—proudly displayed in the window, surrounded by printed photos of himself. Different angles. Different locations. Full scrapbook energy. I don’t know where he learned about photo development, but I assume Santa offers a continuing education program.

My sons were impressed. I was concerned about the elf’s confidence level.

Another night, the elf decided he needed some “downtime.” We found him posted up with a stack of Christmas movies, popcorn nearby, and the remote carefully tucked into his hands like he was hosting movie night. Apparently elves unwind by watching holiday classics and silently judging our streaming choices.

“Dad,” my son said, very seriously, “did he butter the popcorn for us?”

Of course he did. He’s magical. And festive. And clearly very busy. Busy and slightly annoying and at times… kinda damn funny. Who can forget the morning when dad’s tooth brush became a “butt-brush,” or the day he turned our telescope into a Ur-ANUS viewing party?!?? Listening, anyone who can mix in a fart or good butt joke… I’m all in!!!

That’s the thing about Elf on the Shelf—what starts as a fun tradition slowly becomes a full-scale operation. The elf doesn’t just watch kids; he watches everything. How you behave. How tidy the house is. Whether you pretended not to see him when he was definitely in the same spot as yesterday.

And yet… I wouldn’t change it.

Because each morning brings excitement. Each discovery comes with laughter, wide eyes, and absolute belief. But for now, he’s here—taking selfies, watching movies, reporting back to Santa, and reminding us that a little magic goes a long way.

Better be good boys, he’s watching. 🎄✨