It is July 5th. Six years ago my youngest son Connor was born. We had planned a C-Section for this day, but sitting in the fields watching the fireworks in Lebanon, Oregon we knew that he was coming on the 5th whether we liked it or not. When he made his appearance he was greeted with smiles and love the way a baby should be. He was a new burst of joy added to our already happy family. His older brother, two and a half years old at the time, couldn’t wait to meet his new sibling.
We knew well before that day that he would be born with bi-lateral clubbed feet, so when he came out with his twisted little legs we were not surprised and from the very beginning we were ready to start taking steps to correct his legs so that he would be able to walk. The doctors and staff at the Shriner’s Hospital in Portland, Oregon and later in Greenville, South Carolina performed multiple surgeries and Connor spent most of his first couple of years in casts and braces, but he never let it stop him. When his casts kept him from walking he figured out how to scooch around on his hands and knees and how to pull himself up and down the stairs using his arms and the bannister. Now he’s walking, running, jumping and swimming as well as any other six year old. He even takes karate an excels at it.
From the very beginning Connor has been a happy kid. Even when he was sick and covered head to toe in excrement he smiled. His laughter makes you smile no matter how grumpy you may be feeling and his smile can carry you through the day. He is sweet and caring almost to a fault. He loves his big brother and stands up for him when he cannot. Connor is the jock of my family, loving his karate and his soccer, attacking both with a competitive spirit he gets from his mother because he most certainly does not get it from me.
If my older son got my creativity, curiosity and sensitivity, Connor got my laziness. I love the boy but he would so much rather have someone else do the work for him than do it himself. Personally I blame the fact that he’s been able to smile his way through most of his short life, so working hard has not been overly neccesary. Lucky little brat.
Happy Birthday my Connor…my little ConMan. I look forward to watching you grow up into an amazing adult.
0 thoughts on “There is Something Special About That Kid”
“I love the boy but he would so much rather have someone else do the work for him than do it himself.”
SMART kid! 8)
Happy B-day (belated) little Swett.