Three years ago today, my nephew Owen was born. We just celebrated his third birthday, but I wanted to say a little something here. Think of it as my personalized birthday card to him.
First, a video for Owen’s amusement, which also has some good advice:
http://youtu.be/8rxMYX0MoYs
Let me tell you a few things about Owen:
He is one of the most joyful souls I’ve ever met. He’s always laughing, excited by every new wonder. He used to cry a lot, especially when I gave him shoulder rides. But he seems to have gotten beyond that.
He loves American flags, plants, and Thomas and Friends.
He got off to a slow start with talking, but in recent months he has taken quantum leaps in the land of verbalization. Chalk that up as the first challenge of his life, which he passed with flying colors.
He can do a fair amount of sign language. I’m 43 years old, and the only sign language I know involves a finger.
He loves to pretend his cousins and their dad are trees and buildings. He especially loves knocking those objects to the ground and jumping on them. I suspect this activity is not limited to cousins and uncles, but we were the primary targets at his birthday party. We loved every second of it.
We adults of the family can be in the most rotten mood imaginable, but once he toddles into the room and lets out that giggle of his, all other moods brighten.
Happy birthday, you joyful little soul. Uncle Bill loves you very much.
Note: I’ve often written notes to my kids on their birthday. This was originally written when Duncan turned 1o.
An open letter to my second child on his 10th birthday…
Mood Music:
At 2 a.m. on Sept. 15, 2003, I was jolted awake by your mom shoving me in the shoulder. I had just gone to bed 45 minutes earlier, and I had had a lot of wine the night before.
You weren’t expected for a few more days, so I figured I could drink and watch TV all night. I worked the night desk at The Eagle-Tribune back then, and Sunday night was MY time.
But your mom knew you were coming. And unlike your brother’s slow entry into the world two and a half years before, the labor pains you gave your mother came on fast and furious.
This was the first time you made it clear that you were going to be heard. It certainly hasn’t been the last.
Fun fact: On the ride to the hospital, as I drove over the train tracks, Mom’s water broke. The car was still brand new at that point, and that would be the first of many messes you would make of that car. We were afraid you would be delivered in that car. That’s how intense your Mom’s labor pains were. It was the first and only time Mom let me blow through red lights. Two of them, to be specific. When we reached the hospital, I accidentally slammed Mom’s finger in the car door. She barely noticed, with the labor pains you were giving her.
You entered the world by early afternoon, and you were perfect. You still are.
Sean couldn’t wait to meet you. He had a stomach bug and was throwing up all over the living room the morning after you were born. But he wasn’t going to miss meeting his new little brother. Not for the wide world.
Fun fact: We chose the name Duncan for you early on. Your mom and I each made lists of potential names and Duncan was the only name on both lists. A lot of people think we came up with that name because of Dunkin’ Donuts. But I’m a Starbucks kind of guy and people should know better. Actually, I put the name on my list because your brother was really into Thomas the Tank Engine at that point, and one of the trains was named Duncan. As you now proudly tell people, your name is Scottish for “brown warrior.” You carry the name of a leader; a chief. It’s a name of strength. The key is to put your stamp on it. With your kind heart and strong faith (how many kids your age go to the chapel AFTER Mass to pray a little more because they WANT to?) I know you’ll do great.
You have a beautiful command of language and vocabulary, and one of my great pleasures is watching you with your face buried in a book or writing stories on the computer. You gave yourself an awesome pen name in N.R. Rennerb (Brenner spelled backwards, for those of you who didn’t immediately catch on).
You’re as brave and daring as your name suggests. It was you who talked your brother into going camping with your grandparents for the first time. You also dove into Cub Scouts and basketball without hesitating. Learning to ride a bicycle was a big challenge, but you never gave up. Who would have thought the key was simply raising the seat an inch or so?
You say things that make me laugh. Like the time you walked up to the old man in the van in front of Toys R Us and scolded him for smoking. Your exact words were, “Smoking is dumb, you know. It puts holes in your lungs. You also left your back door (to the van) open.”
You’re one of the most giving, loving souls I’ve ever met. You love unconditionally, whether you’re spending time with your cousins or sharing your artistic gifts with us. I especially love the things you can do with Origami.
I love to snuggle with you on the couch as we watch “Star Wars,” “The Hobbit” or your favorite British comedy, “Keeping Up Appearances.”
I love to take you on road trips with the rest of the family, like the time we drove to Washington D.C. and got a tour of the West Wing of the White House. One of my favorite family photos is the one where we are in the press briefing room:
As you’ve discovered by now, life can be hard. Learning to manage ADHD has been no picnic, but you’ve risen to the challenge. You study hard, take your grades to heart and got honor roll twice last year despite all the trouble you had staying focused.
ADHD hasn’t kept you back. It never will, because you won’t let it.
I can’t believe you are 10 years old. Where does the time go? I guess time flies for a Dad who is blessed with two precious boys like you and Sean.
It’s been awhile since I did a “things kids say” post. It’s getting harder to write these because my children have passed the adorable stage and are now well on their way to manhood. In a lot of ways this makes them more amusing than ever. It just took me a few months to adjust to their changes — especially with Sean, who is almost 12 and starting that phase of his life where Dad is a constant source of embarrassment and outrage.
My almost 5-year-old niece comes around frequently and supplies the adorable factor, which helps from a writing perspective.
One thing that hasn’t changed: The complexities and frustrations of everyday life always seem more manageable after you’ve seen it through the eyes if children.
And so, here’s what’s coming out of their mouths these days…
Heard in the other room:
Duncan: “Sean, put a shirt on. I don’t want to see your stomach.”
Sean: “Stomach?! Duncan, these are abs!”
A few minutes later, after catching me shirtless:
Duncan: “Dad, cover yourself. That’s disturbing.”
***
Sean: “Dad, turn that guitar down. This is my house too and I have rights.”
Me: “But these all go to 11”
Sean: *Stares blankly*
***
When I walked into the daycare center to pick up my niece, one of her friends asked, “Are you Madison’s grandpa?”
***
One snow day, the boys looked out the back door and declared this the best weekend ever. Then I handed them shovels and told them to clear out the driveway.
***
Sean: “Dad, what’s the smelliest, scariest sea creature in all the ocean?” Me: “I give up. Tell me.” Sean: “The Butt-Kraken.”
***
Sean, on hearing that George Lucas sold the Star Wars franchise to Disney, and that Disney plans more Star Wars movies: “Fine. As long as they don’t make it all princessy.”
***
“Tell it to the butt.” Sean, in response to one of Duncan’s complaints.
***
During a trip to a high-end kitchen supplies store in the mall… Sean: “Duncan, I’ve been following you all around the store.” Duncan: “That must have taken you a long time. I’ve been touching everything.”
***
“It’s just a little stain, Uncle Bill. What’s the big deal?” The 4-year-old niece, after I told her she couldn’t move her mud-covered tent into our camper.
***
“When you say you know the way, it usually means we’re lost!” Sean, blaming me for getting us lost inside the campground we were staying at.
***
“It’s not my fault. It’s glitching!” Duncan, every time he makes a losing move while playing with the Wii.
