It's my Little A.'s birthday! Four years ago, last night, we sped through a torrential downpour to the hospital. A fast and easy delivery, he was! Little A. is our "lolly-gagger", marches to the beat of his own drum, enjoys talking baby talk (much to my chagrin), loves chocolate (that's my boy!), runs/walks/jumps like he has springs in his feet, has an "old soul", is named after two great presidents, is a daddy's boy through and through. He hates nap time and black olives, spoke like a Philadelphia lawyer well before he was 2, adores his biggest brother, tolerates his bigger brother, his sisters adore him, and we think he's the cat's meow!! He's awesome, he is!
One of his gifts was a baseball set, thought he'd love it 'cuz Big A.'s a baseball player, and all...turns out, not so much!
We were playing a rousing game of baseball outside, complete with ghost runners and dodge ball like outs, while the birthday boy sat on the steps watching. We coaxed him out to play, he hit one ball and stated, "I hate this game."
Then promptly went inside and got his toy shotgun.
Huh, guess we should've gone with the "scooter, like in 'Bolt'"...do you think he knows that scooters don't come with a dog you can say "Zoom-Zoom" to, and then take off flying through the streets with the dog leading?
Um, yeah...pretty much sure that's why he wanted it!
Happy Birthday, dear boy!! We love you!