My Thank You Year showed me that gratitude, like foreign language and math, is something that kids can learn and get better at. My older son, Henry, pitched in throughout the year: He added funny asides to my notes to charity donors; helped deliver thank you notes to neighbors; and dictated messages to 11 of his favorite authors.

Henry started expressing his gratitude more readily—to grandparents, friends, friends’ parents, and (at his birthday lunch) a sushi chef. “I’m grateful for you” became a frequent phrase, one he still says at eight years old.

Henry has always worn his heart on his sleeve—my kid and all—so he took to this easily. My younger son, Charlie, is more guarded: I wonder if he would have been as good a student had he taken part in my Thank You Year. Alas, he was still a toddler.

But next month Charlie will turn five, the same age Henry was in my Thank You Year. So this summer I am going to implement the lessons I learned about teaching kids gratitude, and see how it impacts my goofier, less demonstrative kid. Also, it’ll give us all something to do on rainy afternoons between camp sessions that isn’t crafting. (I’m terrible at crafting.)

Here are the groups of people we are going to write to this summer, in case you’d like to join:  

1. COMMUNITY MEMBERS: Write thank you notes to 5 people making the summer better. I’m thinking of the farmer down the road from my in-laws’ house in Massachusetts who lets us feed her horse carrots.

2. FRIENDS: Write 5 notes to friends you haven’t seen since, perhaps, before Covid times. I might take a page from my friends and family chapters, and turn old photos into postcards for this one.

3. FAVORITE AUTHORS: Write fan mail to authors of 5 treasured books. (Potential bonus: Children’s authors frequently write back!)

4. VACATION ENHANCERS: After a summer vacation (are there two sweeter words?), write notes to 5 people who helped make the trip great. In August we are headed to southern California; it’ll be the kids’ first trip to my hometown in four years! My hope is that my kids get along with my friends’ kids, and that one of them might become a regular pen pal.

As we do these, I’ll be documenting on Instagram, so follow me there if you don’t already?

In the parenting chapter of my book, I write about making a conscious effort to stay grateful for my wonderful yet at times maddening kids. (Because, kids.) I don’t want to get so busy in the parenting weeds that I miss the plot here. (I’m paraphrasing Zibby Owens, whose podcast I will be on this Friday! I’ve been thinking about this line so much since she said it: I don’t want to miss the plot.) And the plot is: This is one of only 18 summers we have with our kids. Math is not my subject, but I think we have 13 left. 

So, right now, after I finish writing this letter to you, I’m climbing onto a chair to grab Henry’s and Charlie’s baby books from a high shelf. (Charlie’s is, in the grand tradition of second children, entirely blank.) And this summer, instead of jotting down their funny quotes in my notes app, immediately lost among to-do-lists, I’m going to write them down in these books, where they have some chance of being read in the future. 

This week, as I am about to jot down, I am grateful for these things: 

• At the dentist I asked Charlie what’s been on his mind lately. “Oh, I don’t know,” he replied. “Mac and cheese.”
• Charlie saying, out of nowhere: “I wish Martin Luther King was indestructible.”
• While reading The Hobbit, Charlie left the room because Smaug the dragon was too scary. Henry snuggled deeper into his bed, now all alone with me and this story and said: “This is like heaven for me right now.”
• This note Henry wrote on the kitchen chalkboard: “I will never not love you.” (If I were at all crafty, I might needlepoint that one onto a pillow.)