Our Owen. The first born. The leader. The one who turns seven today. The one who is a fascinating, delicate mix of baby and tween.
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I wish I could lift your tiny rib cage over my head forever, the way I do when I'm laying on the floor, looking up at you, airplane style. Your tiny, fit frame is still easy to hold. I look up, nearly blinded by that buried dimple of yours, dazzling like a marquee diamond.
Read MoreNew Favorite Boy
Long eyelashes tied in loose bow ties,
Tiny creases between cerulean sea eyes,
Cotton cap hugging your baby doll ears,
Moonlight dazzles, we cry happy tears.
Little boys, who believe with their whole hearts, bouncing around in cotton pajamas. Shimmering lights on sturdy trees. Packages cinched exquisitely with glossy, gold ribbon.