Owen Turns Four (Pardon the Late)

It is hard to imagine four years ago, I had myself a brand new spanking baby boy. Especially since that baby boy full of blue eye wonder is now a 40 pound, 42.5 inch tall very independent mind of his own fun loving dork. Although to be fair, what four year old is not a dork? So Owen on your 4th birthday (albeit few weeks late), you make your father and I very happy, even if you may cause a certain eye twitching frustration every so often. You are a goof, pure and simple. You love to laugh, you make us laugh, and you make Mags laugh too. Aside from the occasional push, shove, hit you are an amazing big brother. Several times this year, your sister would pull your hair and all you would say was “Owww, Daddy, Maggie pulled my hair.” No retaliation. Although I would say that at this point that ratio is more 80/20 ration, but Maggie is almost two, she should know better. Right?

Your loves at the moment are many and include pretty much anything Pixar, but Toy Story in particular. You also like this new show called the Fresh Beat Band - which is more of a last month type of thing. It is a show about singing, you sing and dance. One day this will embarrass you more than you will ever know, and honestly, I can’t wait for that because this show is really, really bad. But you love it, so we suffer through. You love to do puzzles, which is pretty great since your Dad and I have images of all of us at the dining room table muddling through a 1,000 piece Giants win the World Series one. Oh, you kinda like sports. And my “kinda” I mean fanatically. We finally had to delete the World Series win because it was all you wanted to watch, Renteria’s homerun in particular where you would run around and yell crazily happy. Same for football, although I think you love baseball more. This year we took you to the AT&T Park for the Giants versus the Red Sox, Madison Bumgardner’s debut. For eight innings you sat enthralled. Clapping and yelling and watching the Giants lose (it was to be expected, it was the Sox for god’s sake). But that game made me realize that you were becoming a little guy.

Also this year you graduated to a twin bed. A bunk bed, for future sharing with your sister. The transition was easy and although there are the times you do not want to go to sleep and throw a hissy fit, but its getting better (through bribes of tattoos and candy). Your Dad reads you stories every night for 30 minutes, then you guys sing songs, and then (if we are lucky) you fall to sleep to wake up anywhere between 5:30 and 6:30 a.m.. So, yeah, that right there needs some work. Your sister sleeps like the dead, but you are and have always been an early bird. Luckily this is a trait both you and your Dad possess, because Mama likes to sleep in.

You are four Owen. Next year at this time we will be applying to Kindergarten. Or maybe the MLB, because your arm and bat skills are ridiculous. In fact, a 10 year old commented on it by saying to his friend “Did you see that little kid, I could not hit like that at his age.” Impressive, indeed. But I think kindergarten is probably the safer bet.

You are a good guy Owen. Even at times when I pretend to yearn for a life I had before you and Maggie, there is no way I could ever go back. You make my heart whole, and the pride and love I have for you is overwhelming. Okay, going to stop now, don’t need to cry. Owen Patrick, I can’t wait to see what the next year brings - like later wakeups!

Love,
Mama