Dear Asher,

I know it’s almost 7 in the morning on the day after your birthday in Singapore, but over here the sun is still shining on the afternoon you officially turn four years old. Weird how that happens, huh? Because of the way the world rotates and where your spot on it is, you live in the future. But then again, you’re four years old. You would live in the future no matter what your address was.

It’s a little sad for me to be here, living in the past and several thousand miles away from your silly jokes, your lengthening legs, and your inherited stubbornness. I wish I could watch all of that every day, because whenever I see you I feel like we are the greatest of friends, but when we are apart I know it is hard for you to remember just how awesome your Aunty M. is and how much you ought to miss her. But I love my home, and I hope you get to see it one day soon. I’ll talk to the people in charge of your flight arrangements (you have a secretary, right?) and make sure they book your flight right in the middle of a grand Chicago winter, so you can have all the snow and snowmen you dream of.

In the meantime, please enjoy making as much trouble and mischief as you like. It makes for better stories when I talk to your official biographers on the phone every Sunday. Also, just so you know, you have a really cute girlfriend. I approve.

Love,
Aunty M

P.S. I feel bad that your birthday present was not the Megatron action figure I kind of promised I would get you. Can I offer you some cucumbers harvested by trained monkeys instead?

No?

Maybe next year, then.