Calling all mothers of boys! This one’s for you. (Because girls are icky.)
“It’s her age.” My mother’s answer to every silly, stupid, messy, ridiculous, ill-chosen move or decision we ever made. And there were many over the years for my five older sisters and me. And the beauty of it was that it worked in every situation, for all of us, and at various ages. Actually, I’m pretty sure she still uses the excuse from time to time! Not naming names. And I am finding out that, as a mother, I am no less apt to make excuses for my little lovebug. Only instead of “It’s his age”… I find myself saying, “Because he’s a BOY.”
Why is he running around the backyard in only rubber boots and a diaper? Because he’s a boy.
Why is he always decorated by at least 2 scrapes and/or bruises? Because he’s a boy.
Why is his finger always confidently plunged second knuckle deep in his left nostril? Because he’s a boy. (And having the privilege of a 9 year old stepson at home, at least part of the time, I am learning that this does NOT improve with age. In fact, it is compounded by a constantly malfunctioning zipper. I digress…)
Why is he stashing M&Ms (goldfish, gummi-bears, insert snack of choice here) in his pants? Because he’s a boy.
Why is he trying to STAND on top of his rocking horse, arms out like Superman, in front of the television? (“TA-GAAA!”) Because he’s a boy.
Why is he using the cat as an ottoman? (Cattoman?) Because he’s a boy.
Why is he trying to ride the dog side-saddle? Because he’s a boy. Why is the dog playing along? Because he’s a boy too.
Why does he point any oblong object… a ruler, a dog bone, a spoon, a section of wooden train track… out away from his body and shout “BOOM BOOM!?” Because he’s a boy.
Some parents say it is toy guns that make boys warlike. But give a boy a rubber duck and he will seize its neck like the butt of a pistol and shout “Bang!” -George F. Will
Why are cheerios off the floor tastier than cheerios in a bowl? Because he’s a boy.
Why does the back of the sofa seem like a perfect place to leap from, shouting YAAAH? Because he’s a boy. And because he (thankfully) hasn’t graduated to the garage roof yet.
Why does he laugh insanely when he breaks wind? Because he’s a boy. (Well, and because let’s face it, farts are funny… boy, girl, 19 months or 29 years old. Fact.)
Are you seeing a pattern here? It doesn’t matter what icky, destructive, crazy, silly, stinky, booger eating thing he does. The answer, solution, justification–whatever you wish to call it– always reverts back to his boy’ness.
And why am I so snowed by him? Because he’s MOMMY’S BOY.
Other things that make having a son so intrinsically awesome:
1. Halloween costumes are considerably more fun and the possibilities are endless! As in, you don’t alternate princess, witch, and Dorothy for 13 years.
2. Toys are a lot cooler. And you don’t have to buy slutty dolls. <See Dec 8th post “Betsy Wetsy or Skanky Suzy”>
3. Clothes are simple. Khaki, plaid, polo, camo. Repeat. And they don’t care!
4. You never have to worry about not being able to find a hair tie. And you never have to learn to pony or braid. (Daddies!)
5. Teenaged girls.