I have a 10 year old.

I can NOT believe it.  How have 10 years passed since bringing Owen home from the hospital, plunking him in the middle of the living room floor, looking at my husband and saying, “Now what?”

I think we still look at each other and say that.

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I feel badly for Owen so often because he is our trial run.  Our rough draft.  Our experiment of sorts.  (“What should we do?”  “I don’t know, how ’bout this?”  “Yeah.  That sounds good.”  “What if it doesn’t work?”  “Um, then we’ll change our minds and try something else?”  “Perfect!”)  The first born is the one you test things out on.  He hits every new stage first so naturally we’re hardest on him.  By the time our third gets to the same stage we realize its something every kid does and while guidance is necessary, they’ll grow out of it!

Poor Owen.

I hope one day he will recognize that we had/have no clue what we’re doing and are really trying our best.  I hope that he will understand how much we love him.  I hope that he will forgive us for where we’ve messed up.  I hope above all that he will continue his love for Jesus for the rest of his life.  And I hope he doesn’t require years of therapy because of us.

A few things that I love about Owen:

He’s crazy creative and spends his afternoons making stop motion movies.

He’s still a kid.  Some 10 year olds seem – well, more grown up.  I like that he’s still kid-ish.

He likes to snuggle, sit on my lap, and hold my hand when we walk.  Even in public.  (just not at school.  He hasn’t realized yet that his school friends may be in the other public places where he will do these things!  ha.)

He reads more than I do.

If you asked him today what his favourite song is he would say Eye of the Tiger.  But that will change in about 3 days when he discovers a new band.

He won’t ever tell me what he wants to be when he’s older.  He feels that it’s much too big of a decision to make at 10.  However, the one time in his life he did  say what he wanted to be he said, “a frog trainer.”  Okay then.

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