Oh my Owen, the stories that will be told about you will be legendary...
Last Friday, I had the good fortune (meant completely seriously) to pick up #6 of 6 (whom will soon reach a *height of 6' 6", so his birth order is apropos), and take him to Bass Pro for a few hours of fun. His older brother WP was quite sick, and I was just trying to be the good Pappy, and help out however possible.
*In case you don't know Owen, he is very tall. At age 3, he was taller than 50% of the 5 year old's. At age 3 7/12th's, he towers over kids his age. He is constantly being asked how old he is, and for quite some time, he answered 5, and the asking person just kind of shrugged, a yeah, that's about right, never once questioning his answer. But, Owen, ever on the look out for a bribe, made a deal several months ago with his Mom that if he could be 5, he would agree to potty train in one day. She made the deal, and he stuck to his end of the deal too; potty trained in one day, and then proceeding to tell everyone that he was 5. Yep, true story.
Not too many minutes had elapsed when o'Mike blurted out "Hey Pappy, you want to hear my arm pit fart?" Well, caught completely off guard (though why should I have been?), this little (ha) guy proceeded to unzip and demonstrate his adroit skills of arm-pit-farting. So, who taught my little (ha) cave man how to perform this skill? My mind was quickly drawn to Steven, his Neanderthal father.
Yes, my Owen, my o'man, my o'Mike (I love that nick-name, though I am truly the only one in the family that uses it). Most folks call him Owen Michael Kueny!!!, just to make sure that he knows all the parts of his name. Surely it is not because he just about filleted the trout that just swam by... (man he was close to landing that 2 lb.'er, with his bare hands!) Or is it because they don't think that a simple Owen will garner his attention?
Anyway, I ramble, and digress. Owen the arm-pit farter. I'm so proud he has that talent. Truly, he will go far in life with that skill. It ranks right up there with peeing naked in the back yard (oh I love it when he does that), and I also love how he demonstrates 'poopy-head'. Wow.
Thank you Steven, (aka 'The Lost Bigfoot'), though we'll not start any part of the conversation about BigFoot with him ~ unless you want to see him flip out his autographed copy of the only picture known to exist in the entire world...
You can't really tell so much in this picture because my camera phone is good, but not great; but every time I see this boy, he's got new cuts/bruises, which I'm sure as he gets older will turn to casts and stitches. This boy is rough. He loves to rumble and tumble. He loves to do things that gentler boys don't. This pic shows some of his markings, but mainly I snapped the photo because he looked so cute in my cowboy hat.
Prior to hair, the head was obviously shaped like mine, crowns, dents, horns, etc. That's not as noticeable now as it was then, but the heavy eye lids are still there, and when he smiles he looks like a mini-me clone of his Daddy 'the missing link' Kueny.
If you've been in the same church for very long, you realize after several years that you've heard the same stories and illustrations from your pastor many times over. Well, parts of my blogs are like that, and I can't help myself but to bring up the DNA story again. O'Mike has 25% of my DNA, but I sure have a hard time figuring out where 1/4th of his physical and mental parts are that share my DNA. Head and eye lids; check. Calves; check. Shoulders; check. Posture; earlier yes, but not sure now. Legs; probably, but not completely sure. Laugh; absolutely. Diaphragm; without question. Boldness; check. Olive skin; probably. Appetite; most likely.
That's a pretty short list; as our other physical and mental differences are a plenty.
Oh my little Romeo, my Casanova. This boy is going to be a player. Look out ladies, "Magic Mike" is in the house.
For as long as I can remember, Owen has gravitated toward the ladies, but he has discriminate taste, he only gravitates towards the prettiest ones. That is a serious, absolute, 100% fact, and I chronicled his history with Haley at Bass Pro last December.
Well, big R or big C, take your pick; he allowed several little girls to pass by with nary a glance; but he struck gold with Brittni. Yep, we found out she was 7, and she was cute, super cute (she had to have gotten her cuteness DNA from Momma, because it sure wasn't Daddy ~ just sayin').
Brittni was more than twice his age..., and completely enthralled at his tales of yore (soon to be lore). She would have eaten out of his hand, had he had something to eat. For the better part of 20 minutes, he and Brittni were fast friends. She did some talking, but mostly she was the one doing the listening, and following, and clinging. O'Mike had her in a trance; I missed the part where he did the Vulcan mind-meld, but as enamored as Brittni was, he had to have done it. I snapped the pic after o'Mike had told her to go sit down, and she obeyed!
Owen was telling her all about the fish, their feeding habits, the water temp, why salmon swim upstream, the trout that he almost caught by hand, which fish were going to be on the menu that night at Uncle Bucks, etc. And, he was in the process of talking her into getting suited up with some snorkeling gear and go swim with him and the fishes. Wow, this boy can talk!
So, 10-15 minutes have passed, and Brittni has left. But wait, what's this? Yep, that's right, it's our Casanova moving in for his 2nd act of the day. But this time, he was going after jailbait. She was 2. According to her Dad (hot Mom's must not come to Bass Pro), his daughter had just turned 2. I do not remember her name, but ask Romeo, he probably will. Horrible focus on this pic, but when I was analyzing it, it looked to me like a 5 year old was moving in on a 2 year old, and 'jailbait' came quickly to mind.
Anyway, jailbait is way more than a full head shorter than o'Mike, but when their eyes lock, she melts. Seriously, how does a 2 year old melt? I didn't think it possible. But remember, (disclaimer; I've told this story before), I was VERY slow in the ladies game. I didn't even look sideways to notice a girl until I was 16, and even then, it was strained for me to do so!
Yes, I was blessed and fortunate to have married the most beautiful girl in the entire high school, and this July will mark 36 years :-), but I'm telling you, I was slow. When it happened though, it was fast. Age 16, I saw a girl. Age 19, I was married after dating my beauty Queen on/off for 2 of the 3 years in between.
O'Mike and Jailbait, take 2. This little girl had an infectious smile and big brown eyes as big as Ava.
Magic Mike getting ready for his audition. Yep, he's 3. Good gosh, look at the size of those feet on that 3 year old! This picture is courtesy of Jackie, as Owen was about to show Momma his latest series of scratches; though Mom did not know that Owen had stripped in order to accomplish this.
O'Mike, o my. Reminds me of my little brother Ken who used to run up and down the streets of our neighborhood when he was 3; completely naked.
Yep, I was so proud of Ken too. I remember running into the house as fast as possible so that no one could see me. Mom would ask "Mike, why are you in the house?, and I would answer 'because Ken is outside running up and down the street naked."
It was a different world then..., or is it?
