"Happy birthday, my beautiful little prince," I told him. (Calling him "my beautiful little prince" sort of makes me want to put a gag in my own mouth and sort of makes me want to buy a smallish gold crown and crimson velvet cape for him to wear.)
No sooner were the words out of my mouth than he began to wail. "I don't even want today to be my birthday!" he sobbed.
Oh Owen. He is SUCH a drama queen. Wonder where he picked that up?
But he called me a little later to tell me that he'd opened one of his presents and I have no idea what it was but he surely was excited about it. He ended up saying, "See you at my party!"
Which will be tomorrow.
He is five.
Here's my post from last year where I sort of summed up his birthing day.
The day he created a family.
I love that picture. I love those people.
It's absolutely impossible for me to do justice to the way I feel about that child and the way his presence on this earth has affected me and our family.
There are, of course, ten million more.
But. There you are. A few moments in the five years of his life.
Owen Curtis Hartmann.
My beautiful little prince. My firstborn grandson.
Happy birthday. My god, but you are loved.
Mer Mer
