Been There, Done That

This week celebrates the second anniversary of the birth of my grandboy, Elijah.  He has grown into the job of being third born and third son in the family.  For those of you without three sons of your own, that means he had to learn to stand up for himself - even before he could physically stand up at all.  He is tough and he is solid, and his heart is solid gold, too!

He has a belly laugh that makes the gloomiest of days morph into instant sunshine.  You can't not smile when you hear it - even if he is laughing at his favorite game:  throw the toy up in the air.  There are only two variables in this game:  exactly what toy gets thrown and which direction it goes when tossed.  Which, I guess, leads to a third variable - who or what might be in the way of the incoming projectile.  But he laughs, and you rub your aching shin, and you smile - and you protect yourself against the next giggle producing ear of plastic corn.

There might be nothing better than showing up at the house of Elijah.  Regardless which grandboy opens the door, Elijah pushes his way through the assembled saying, and I quote, "Granma, lkej eiosh truck wioury oui up."  He had me at Granma.

I know you aren't supposed to have favorites.  It's a good rule and one I hold to - mostly.  But there are exceptions.  First, birthdays render the rule moot for the day.  But on the other 358 days of the year, my favorite is the one I am currently laying hands, eyes and kisses upon.  Meaning, of course, that I can have multiple favorites all at one time.  This Granma gig is a great one!

The son...

And his father

Sometimes, though, when I catch a glimpse of that little third in line, fireplug of a toddler and spark plug of a personality, I see another third boy child.  It takes my breath away!  There is, of course, a perfectly logical explanation for the déjà vu - like father, like son.  And, Elijah, you are your father's son!

Happy Birthday to my favorite of the day.  Oh, heck, you can have the whole week.  I love you!