He still loves to play in the dirt…
Still loves his horses.
Still a “wheel” lover…It was his first word.
Still loves “Ut –O’s”. You see, around a year or so, when we’d be walking through a parking lot (meaning me packing him on my hip), any trucks we passed that had hitches (out West some folks call them “stingers” cause they can sure bite your shins or knees if you’re not watching where you’re going) sticking out from their bumpers he’d point and say “Ut-Oooh” all doomsday like.
Now…the boy hadn’t been around long enough yet to witness me getting stung by one so I could only surmise his proclamation of “Ut-Oh” was because it didn’t have a trailer attached and was therefore dubbed a great tragedy to a very
strange interesting child.
This made sense one day in 1998, not long after we moved to Indiana and consequently bought into a horse trailer business. When he’d see a trailer of any sort hooked or not hooked to a truck he would point and say, “Ut-Oooh”. To which I would say, “No baby, ‘Trailer’.” And then he’d frown and say with a little more force, “Ut-Oh!” I gave up after a while.
For the record, from time to time he’ll still say, “Ut-O” just to make me smile.
He’s kinda funny and a pretty good boy.
And it was good of him to be born on my Grandma Irene’s birthday. She was pretty tickled about that sixteen years ago today, she still is.