Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Here Comes the Son

I admit I had mixed feelings about our second child being a boy. I loved him beyond telling from the minute I saw him, but I felt…nervous.

I had pretty extensive experience dealing with girls of all ages—I was one, my sisters were young enough that I help care for them, and I’d been a camp counselor for over a hundred girls, ranging in age from seven to fourteen.

As far as boys go, I only really knew my brother. He’s three years younger than I am, so I really didn’t pay much attention to his Care and Feeding. I was more interested in Avoiding, Defeating, and Outsmarting him.

Well, I must have noticed more than I thought because A LOT of his childhood has come flooding back to me as I watch my son grow. Apparently I know more about boys than I thought, like
  • There is no SITTING through a meal
  • Boys’ skin acts like a magnet for food, dirt, markers, glue, mud, leaves, bubbles, you name it
  • Boys, however, are allergic to water, unless they’re flinging it everywhere
  • Why just look at it if you can run your hands—or a toy car—all over it?
  • In the movie of a boy’s life, the soundtrack features a car chase
  • Cool places to stash dirt: shoes, pockets, hair, ears, creases in skin
  • Sometimes falling down IS the plan
  • Spit happens
  •   Other bodily fluids happen
  • It’s not a mess; it’s cars racing on a track around Disney World in New York City with Buzz Lightyear’s aliens invading.
 Despite all that, I am so proud, happy, and blessed to have a son. And if you doubt it, here’s proof. True story.

Little A. got a make-your-own book with his fast food today. (Yes, I needed a break!) Being a savvy business, they gave out an “I Love Mom” themed kit this week. As I helped S. with homework, Little A. enthusiastically took it apart and started coloring. He asked me to read the top of one page.

It said, “This Lady Really Rocks.”

After a few minutes of markers and glue, he waved the paper at me and said, “Mommy, can you help me write ‘I love rocking’ in the bubble?”

Needless to say, when I saw it, I nearly COULDN’T write the words in the bubble. But I did, so here’s the finished product--
Just in case you're not familiar with Little A.'s artistic style, this is mom (wearing sunglasses) in a "tall rocking chair" with a ladder to get up.

My son really rocks!

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