Who’s That Boy?


Thankfully, I don’t even own a shotgun so I can’t become a cliché and start polishing it. Of course those thoughts are premature when you’re talking about a sweet three year old boy named Owen. But if he’s still around in a dozen years, I’ll be making sure he knows who I am. 😉

At pre-school, Owen is the first to greet my daughter when I drop her off and the one to always make sure he says good-bye when I pick her up. I’m actually getting the “stinkeye” from a toddler when I show up because he equates me with her departure. It’s flipping adorable.

The latest, and cutest, episode was last week when I came to pick her up. I peeked into the darkened room as they were still in nap time. What do I see but two young classmates each lying on their cots but peeking around the bookcase at each other to hold a secret conversation.

I tap on the glass. Grace looks up and I’m rewarded once again with the “Daddy’s here!” excitement of Christmas morning. (Let’s hope that never changes because I’m officially digging it). She runs to the door for a big hug. But behind her, the crestfallen face of Owen (sorry, buddy) is getting closer as he has gone over to her cot to bring her shoes to her. Ahh, the perfect little gentleman.

I’d like to tell you Grace smiled and said thank you, but if you know my independent little woman you’d already know better. She promptly threw a fit because she has to do “everything myself!” Poor, confused Owen.

After placing her shoes where they were, picking them up, and bringing them back over, Daddy had a good opportunity to teach Grace to say “Thank You” when someone is trying to help her and just being nice. I love how strong willed Grace is and want her to be independent but it’s all about picking your battles and Owen looked like he was going to croak from heartbreak.

I’ll still keep an eye on him though. I mean, he did bring a woman shoes which is no rookie move.


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