So Sean's 10
My baby boy decided to hit double digits. Sigh.
He had a happy birthday. Played Wii, watched his brother take out the garbage (usually Sean's chore), got Star Wars and Legos and gift cards and the Wii Ocean game. And he got to stay up until 9 pm - oooo...ahhh.
In six years, he's going to think he'll be able to drive my car. AHAHAHAHAHAA!
The night I went into labor with Sean, we went off to the hospital, checked in, got settle into a room...and then there were tornado sirens. That should have been a warning to us that Sean would not be any ordinary kid.
He was my baby with the pretty hair. Lovely dark blonde hair. Even the doctor commented about it. The nurses and I pet his pretty head so much, one nurse joked he'd go home bald. He was a pretty content, laid back baby, with a schedule only he could figure out. Again, should have been a clue.
He cut teeth at four months, started crawling shortly thereafter, and was walking at 8 months. Soon, he was climbing. His first sentence was "I'm tuck!", as he kept getting caught in things. Like the rocking airplane. Yes, there's nothing like calling up your husband at work and asking where the allan wrench is, because his son is stuck in a toy.
You would also think he'd learn the first time, but no...a few days later, I heard "I'm tuck! I'm tuck!" At least I knew where the allan wrench was that time.
Sean had no fear. We got the fear Sean should have had. He was either standing on something, tasting something he shouldn't, or flying off a surface. We bought a crib tent after he learned how to hoist himself up over the crib rail and flop out of the crib. I had Poison Control's number memorized. I knew the signs of concussion and when a cut needed stitches. Collin got good at alerting us to Sean's impending doom...or when he fell.
Like the Sunday morning the boys were playing in the living room. I was in the bathroom (no, never did learn that going to the bathroom is just asking for trouble to happen), and heard a crash and Collin yelling "Sean's hurt!" Only took one look to realize this one would need stitches. Four. Actually, he could have used five, but Sean managed to get free of the papoose system they had strapped him into at the hospital. Two days later, Sean slid into the front door and had a big lump to go with the stitches on his forehead. The day after that, he fell down the front steps, scraping the rest of his face up on the concrete. The next day was Collin's birthday and Sean looked like we had taken him by the ankles and swung him repeatedly into a brick wall.
Thank goodness with age, Sean gained some fear.
He went from a toddler on a tear, to a really bright kid. When he turned five, he finally got interested in letters and numbers. By the time he turned six, he was reading and writing and spelling. Proving that not only did he look just like his father, but that they had similar brains. When they decide to learn something, they learn it instantly.
There are times I feel badly for Sean. He does seem to draw the short straws on things. Like Sean - the boy who loves to eat healthy, who would choose white milk over Sprite at McDonald's, who brushed his teeth five times a day - he was the one who got Dad's lousy tooth enamel. And when the dog decided to eat a toy on the way down to Arkansas one Christmas, she ate Sean's most favorite toy. We drove the rest of the way to Little Rock, with Sean holding his half-eaten Kyogre toy that was wrapped up in his hat, sniffling and looking all pathetic. And then he said "It's okay, Santa will bring me a new one, right?" It was December 22rd.
Proving that God does answer prayers, we found one at Target and gave it to him as an early Christmas present.
And now he's ten. Sigh. He is still my sweet Seanie Boy, even if he won't let me call him that most of the time. Or that he'll be in middle school in the fall.
Thursday, May 08, 2008 9:19:24 AM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00) 
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