Raising little boys is far different than raising little girls - much different than I could have ever imagined. I thought kids were kids and they were all pretty much the same until they were old enough to know otherwise.
Maren was never a girly-girl, but compare to the twins she was valedictorian of the Pretty Princess Academy for Social Refinement. The boys are destructive, loud, and messy. I did not know spitting and hitting came naturally. As does interest in all things gross from bugs to boogers. Lately it has been their fascination with everything poop that has my rolling my eyes.
The other day I came home to find my husband - my 40 year old husband - sitting at the computer with a child on each knee. "What 'cha doin'," I asked. To my horror Adam replied, "We're finding elephants pooping."
Maybe "horror" is a bit of an embelishment, but I have creative license here. It's my blog.
I shot Cooper a look. I know I did. A look that shouted what-the-hell! (Another expletive should probably be inserted here, but I'm keeping it rated PG.)
He said, "Well, they wanted to see elephants pooping." Which was followed by giggles and other affirmation that Dad is awesome!
And as it turns out, you can find video of elephants taking a dump on YouTube. (I was going to post the video, but I couldn't find the one they were watching. You're welcome to search for yourselves. You know you want to.)
Dad is awesome. What can I say? I would have never thought to search YouTube for wildlife relieving themselves as an entertainment source for three year old boys.
I swear I didn't teach them these things. I don't even recall making vroom, vroom noises while playing cars let alone tee-heeing about pachyderm poop.
By the way, did you know that when playing matchbox cars; trucks, motorcycles, and tractors make different noises? If you're playing with little boys it's very important to get that right. You will be corrected!
I know, I know, boys will be boys, but when I tell people the twins were wrestling before they could crawl I get looks that say, "Exaggerating a little aren't ya?" Now I'm not talking Caine and Able. One was pulling the other back in during the delivery. Let's face it, the only birthright they were born into is about three-fitty and a collection of really bad jazz. Sorry, Coop. But it's true, there were several cage matches in their crib.
I always attributed other little boys naughty behavior and bad habits to daycare or older brothers that teach them bad things. I'm more and more convinced now wrestling and bath aversion is innate.
Help me!
