Oh, Owen! Owen-O.... You are so precious to me. And so cute... as if precious weren't enough; you're just stinkin' cute to boot! At this stage of life, a few days before your 3rd birthday, you are adorableness embodied.
Mamas do say this kinda stuff, I know, so you might not be inclined to trust my assessment, say if you're reading this later, as a teen or as an adult. But allow me to document...
Most people you encounter comment upon your cuteness, so I've come to believe it's not just me. You've taken to calling yourself "tiny boy" of late (as in "I AN NOT a baby! NOT a baby! I an a TINY BOY"), and that description perfectly fits. You've lost the smooth-headed, round-formed perfection of a baby, that big-eyed etherealness that might lead someone to stop and say, "oh, how beautiful he is." You've gone "cute," instead. But what a lot of cute. In place of baby zen, you've gained a whiff of Future Owen, a tiny boy in a still-toddler body.
With your crazy orange curls (or, "krills," as you say), your Bambi blue eyes, your busy, chubby, expressive hands that are never far from the heart shape of your Irish-skinned face, you charm life -- at a glance. On instinct. The way we lesser mortals breathe. There's humor in your expression almost all the time. And that grin! You have this wide, impish grin that bares both rows of teeth (imperfectly perfect as they are, the front top two with a gap between them and a chipped ridge across them). The smile comes with a cock of the head, a shake of a curl and a twinkle in the eyes. It speaks without words. The message? Something very much like, "Hey, I'm not sayin' I'm perfect... but I sure know how to have fun! Wanna come play with me? You know you wanna!" And yes, my son, you sure do. And we mostly do, too. And we all have a fine time together.
Here are some other things I'm loving about who you are, Owen, right in this very now:
The way you mangle the phrase "Hickory Dickory Dock" as we sing that nursery rhyme on the way to Growing Stick...
The way you clap for all things "GWEAT!" -- and how many everything things you label this way? "Time for baf? GWEAT!" ... "Rolls for dinner? GWEAT!" ... "Oohhhh... BOOK-TIME! GWEAT!"...
Your system of snuggling under the covers and arranging your many, many nightime props before reading with me...
How you say "yar" instead of pacifier or paci? And, how dedicated is your love for your yars, still today. You don't need them, anymore, but you sure like them, comfortable old friends that you collect in pockets and hoard in nap cubbies...
How you love scary animals, like dinosaurs, and love to play MON-STARR (imagine a deep "grrr" with nose wrinkled and finger "claws" drawn up to chin), but are afraid of the smallest bug in the bathroom OR piece of lint that could be a bug in the bathwater...
How phrases come out backwards but still understandable, like "Wuz and Buddy" for "Buzz and Woody" of Toy Story. When this happens, you brother likes to say, "he sure has a way with his words, doesn't he?"...
Last night I was too busy to watch some acrobatic feat of yours on the bed, so you called a stuffed T-rex into service. "Watch me, Dino! Watch OWEN! OK... you watching?" And you propped him up where he couldn't help but see your "jhrumps" into the pile of pillows. Then you watched him (such a nice display of manners!) as he took his turn and jhrumped.
Jhrumping is very big with you right now, as we're having a bounce house for your birthday soon.
:) I smile and shake my head when I recount all these things, O. I tell ya, son. I love these sweet and funny antics very, very much. ...But they still don't hold a candle to the way I love you.
Please feel free to change as you need. To one day put away these tiny boy things. I'll grow with you and I'll let them go, too. Some day, I won't even remember the theme song to "Shaun the Sheep" or the words to "Hop on Pop." But I'll remember this moment in life with a smile. And I'll smile again, every time I see the boy you are just on the cusp of becoming, in the man you will one day be.
I will not hold you so tight as to ask you to stay one way or be one person throughout the arc of your life. I love Future Owen, already, no matter who he turns out to be. I delight in your progress and I can't wait to see what God will do in you, and for you. You will do great things, my son, because you will do all things with verve and joy and love. That's the secret, really -- that anything we do can be a great thing, if done in great love. Luckily, you already show a propensity toward abundance. That's the core of you, right now, Owen: Energy and life, in abundance.
I don't expect the red krills to stay. I'm prepared to lose the heart-grabbing look that precedes a discovery or a declaration, as awe and light cross a still-pudgy, almost-baby face. I'll let these things go, I promise. ...But I would be delighted, my son, if your grin doesn't ever change.
Happy birthday, my happy Owen. With all my heart -- Mom
Just a girl, asking for grace, to survive her happily-ever-after.
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