1 May, 1893
Ben,I hope this letter finds you in a good place. I know we only spoke briefly last time, but I promised to write and I've done a poor job at following through on that promise. I wish there was some grand excuse I could pin my forgetfulness on, but I don't suppose "motherhood" would suffice? Probably not, since every other woman with children manages to find the time in her day.
Elliot will be four next month on the 13th. I can't remember if I ever told you his exact date of birth. He's much taller since you saw him last—he's nearly up to my hip now. His hair has darkened a bit, but no darker than my own. He's learning how to write his name, but he usually forgets how many Ls and how many Ts belong in his first name. He loves quidditch and drawing and has been begging us for a kitten. I've never been good with animals, but I'm considering letting him try.
How have you been? Busy?
Don't be a stranger,
