Lately it’s been a love/hate thing between me and the boys (well, mostly me since they adore me and I have a much more stressful life than they do). Ethan’s a darling/Ethan’s the Spawn of Satan and completely unreasonable I mean seriously! Victor’s adorable/Victor’s going to get himself tossed outside. This, however, is all normal little kid stuff. It’s a phase with them both and it, too, shall pass.
I’m ever grateful, though, for their boyness. I don’t know about little girls, but little boys seem very capable of amusing themselves a good bit of the time. This fits perfectly with my no-cling style of parenting. Attachment, yes, cling, no. Boys are wonderful because you can stop almost any unhappiness with a silly noise. Silly noises ROCK. As do cars and anything with wheels and just wheels in general. The stroller wheels? FASCINATING! (watch for fingers!) Bless the inventor of Matchbox cars (3 and up, my foot!). I’ve become a “Mom of Boys” in that play tends to always include tickling, rolling on the floor and getting something (finger, fist, limb or toy) shoved into my face and/or eye. I toss them around like sacks of potatoes. I’m most especially ashamed that, it seems, I now laugh on occasion at “fart noises”. *le sigh* That one I’m most dismayed at but won’t sugar-coat this “having little boys” thing. They’re constantly doing things I don’t understand in the least. Right now they’re running around screaming “just because”. Going outside to play ends up, every.single.time, with a strip-down before entering the house and a bath.
They are, without a doubt, abso-fricking crazy.
These things, though, make the sun shine more brightly. When they’re sweet it tastes extra sugary. When they’re gentle you marvel that much more.