Dear Family,

Today, I learned what color a blue crab is. 

And no, I do not mean that I just discovered that there is a species of crustacean called the blue crab. I am a Marylander, born and raised, so I have been aware of the existence of these azure arthropods for longer than I can remember. My fourth grade teacher read aloud books to the class about a Chesapeake blue crab named Chadwick. I’m also fairly certain I’ve eaten one. Sorry, Chadwick. 

But it seems I have somehow gone my entire life without ever seeing a picture of one, and I’d always assumed that they were… I don’t know, brown with a vaguely bluish splotch in some discreet location on their bodies. Until today, when I saw this picture on Wikipedia:

Imagine my shock at this discovery—blue crabs are blue! 

I’m not going anywhere with this; I just thought you should know. On with the letter:

Easter

As you have probably learned from my father’s letter by the time you’re reading this, my family abandoned me for Spring Break for the second year in a row. I could have taken time off work and joined them, but they wanted some alone time with Grace before she graduates. That meant I spent most of my time not spent at KAH with my Great Aunt Coco, who kindly stayed at our house to keep me company. 

At one point during the week, I made a passing comment about Curly Wurlys, a British candy I’d wanted to try ever since hearing Sam Yao (a fictional character who also happens to be my cat’s namesake) mention them in Zombies, Run! I can’t remember how it came up, but Coco evidently filed that information away for later, because on Easter morning, I woke up and found Curly Wurlys in my basket. It may seem silly, but it meant a lot to me, and I think the act of love deserves to be immortalized. Thank you, Coco. 

After church, Coco and I joined Uncle Andrew and Aunt Jess’s family for Easter dinner. It still counts as dinner if it’s at four in the afternoon, right? It’s at least dinner-adjacent. I am so grateful that I got to spend time with them, and I had a lot of fun talking to my younger cousins about our shared childish interests. We had an egg hunt, and cousin Rosie was eager to trade away any of her candy for my Smarties. (What a sucker). 

I also showed the girls how to make flower crowns with the violets and other assorted weeds growing in their backyard. Afton’s was awesome, and Clara gave up halfway through and decided she’d rather just sprinkle flower petals on her head. 

I love my cousins.

Work

I’m afraid I don’t have a Kid Quote of the Month this time around. I have, however, acquired a new piece of knowledge regarding one of the hottest trends in the world of children’s books: The Who Would Win? series. Sometime this month, Chris rescued some old ones from being thrown away by a teacher and put them in our little KAH library. The two books in question were Ultimate Bug Rumble and Ultimate Ocean Rumble, each of which chronicles a hypothetical bracketed contest between sixteen animals. The page on the right always introduces the round’s contestants (i.e., “Walrus vs. Sand Tiger Shark”) with facts about each animal, so you have to turn the page to see the victor on the left. The books are fairly educational, and the kids find them engaging.

Too engaging, actually.

Listen: I love reading to these kids. But I have read the two Who Would Win? books in our collection more times than I can count, and we’ve only had them for a few weeks. If you asked me to recite either of them word-for-word right now, I’d guess that I could do it with at least fifty to sixty percent accuracy. Considering that half of the fun of these books is trying to guess which animal will reign victorious, you’d think it’d have begun to wear off. But no, they insist on having me read them aloud again and again. Many of them will say, “I forgot which one wins this one, so I’m going to guess again,” and then “guess” with complete accuracy. 

Yeah, right. 

So yes, children are fascinating. I love it. 

With Spring Break comes a drastic change in my work schedule. Instead of coming in in the morning and the afternoon with a break between the two, everyone is assigned a few consecutive hours to come in each day—you know, like a normal job. There are typically fewer kids than there are on an average afternoon, but not nearly as few as there are during Winter Break. 

The first day of Spring Break, I arrived sometime in the late morning or early afternoon and was immediately greeted by children delightedly shouting my name, and two kindergarteners—let’s call them Optimus and Tadpole—running over to hug me. Honestly, I will never understand people who say they don’t like kids.

This letter has been pretty short, and I don’t have a nice conclusion to wrap this all together. I can hear all of the English teachers I’ve ever had shaking their heads in disappointment. What does that sound like, you ask? I have no idea. 

Love, 
Ari