Celebrating Poppa's Big Day

Poppa turned 60 in late May and this past weekend we had a little party to celebrate the big day! H loves to celebrate birthdays, loves to sing 'Happy Birthday' and LOVES to blow out (aka all over) candles. He was up for the job when it came to Poppa's cake. (Full disclosure: I only had 2 candles that I could scrounge up for Poppa's cake, but no matter, H took care of them lickety spit).

On another birthday note: while not nearly as momentous, Oakley received a postcard from the vet wishing her a happy birthday yesterday. (More disclosure: I had no idea it was the dog's birthday this month but that's why we pay the vet the big bucks.) Anyway, I mentioned jokingly to Dad that it was Oakley's birthday. Who perked right up? H. 'It's Oakley's Birthday!!' He crowed. 'Needa bake her a cake! And sing 'happy birfday too!' ' He went over to congratulate her (and probably to ask what flavor cake she'd like).

Today when we got back from school/work, we asked H what he and his brothers did. 'We baked a cake for Oakley!' He reported. 'But she dinnin share any of it. She ate the whhhollle thing.' Wow, Miss Oaks, part dog part piglet, but Happy Birthday to you nonetheless.

NH on show

Mighty Oaks

Oaks is a great 'kid' dog. I think initially we were a little concerned she might be fearful of the boy and the babies, and at moments, she is. Like when H tries to ride her-- at three times her weight, he's a bit much to carry; when the babies grab her hair and yank, this hurts-- I know from experience, and when she thinks H is about to trip and fall over her-- a dance that occurs because she stands directly under him during all mealtimes.

But beyond those moments of terror, there is an extremely symbiotic relationship between our boys and our dog. Check out the photo above-- both babies are fascinated with Oaks, and she is fascinated with E's bum! H feeds Oaks most of his meals and what he doesn't offer, she helps herself to as soon as he's not looking. In my pre-parenting (more perfectionist days) I recall being appalled by even the notion of such carrying ons, but I think I've mellowed. I'm almost grateful for our little Hoover, Oaks.