In which we age more and less gracefully.
When you're very young, you take things as they come. You might, for example, find yourself completely happy to spend a hot summer's day the way Owen does in the upper left picture-- sitting in a recently filthy water garden container with a cold sprinkler periodically dousing you on the head.
As you age however, things get a little tougher to take. Instead of hanging out in the water, for instance, you might take to sitting on your deck, warming your brittle bones and glaring angrily at the noisy dogs the way Louise does.
Or you could wake up with a crick in your neck the Saturday of your annual canoe trip griping about "those damn kids" who stayed up partying well past 11 p.m. (which is the clearly posted quiet time for the camp ground).
In the case of the latter, it doesn't help when your friends remind you that you used to be one of "those damn kids" less than five years ago.
(I'd show you pictures of these hateful people, but Costco has apparently lost my film. And, yes, I was cantankerous about it.)
Anyway, as Owen ages he, too, becomes increasingly demanding. He might, for example, demand some serious swing time with Grandma and Grandpa Henshaw or the carriage services of Grandma Hess.
And while these service have to date proven satisfactory, at his first birthday he was much less impressed with the gifts. The O-Boy managed to open one-- a quite noisy school bus, thank you, Grandma Hess-- and then there were things to do, places to see and people to meet.
Not the least of these was Holly Schroeder. Owen was quite eager to show Holly how he can walk with the aid of his trusted servant, Dad, and even navigate up the steps. (Down the steps remains beyond his abilities... for now.)
Birthday torment continued with a cake decorated in pink icing. Sure, Owen shares his exact birthday (July 14th) with Mom, and Aunt Lisa's birthday is just a few days before, but still... PINK?!? To make matters worse, Scooter didn't even get any of the lemon deliciousness. Instead, Mom baked sugar free carrot cake muffins for him and Holly. They weren't bad (considering they lacked the key ingredient of sugar).
Afterwards, there was the now customary thinning of Dad's already too sparse hair followed by the traditional refusal to nap. Said refusal came despite repeatedly nodding off in the middle of the floor. It was a lengthy and well-fought battle of wills between father and son while Mom opened her gifts.
Father, of course, lost.
And this was only the beginning.
In addition to actual birthday gifts of lace table cloths and coffee makers and gift certificates and requisite jewelry, Mom bought herself a new kitchen island to make up for the abysmal lack of counter space in our kitchen. As you'll see from the photo, left, she found the perfect place for it: On top of Owen's head.
Meanwhile, the little boy from Kokshetau who once was quite satisfied with a simple, bedraggled stuffed monkey, required an additional weekend birthday party to fully maximize his loot.
It was your basic, full-on Huey fest complete with Uncle Mike and Aunt Sandy and the cousins and their kids including newest member, Devon, who's pictured at left.
You can see Owen modelling one of the Hueys' gifts-- a new camouflage hat-- at left. The Hueys are apparently under the mistaken belief that Owen's mother will one day allow him to hunt. Unfortunately, in our family, only Toonces is allowed to kill other animals for sport. And, in fact, Toonces treated Owen to a showing of a very un-Lion King like lesson in the circle of life.
This, of course, explains the messy pile of feathers on our front porch and why Owen and his mother have cut back on their chicken intake.
In addition to the hat, Owen scored a new pool from Grandma and Grandpa Henshaw. Mom and Dad scored an alcohol free head rush from blowing the humongous thing up.
("Why didn't you use that air compressor I gave you for Christmas," Uncle Mike asked me.
"Didn't think about it," I had to answer. Yes, I was mocked.)
At any rate, the pool-- which will NEVER be deflated-- was a big hit. I'm not sure why Owen prefers it to the garden pond.
He must be getting old.
