Before my son was even a TWINKLE in my eye, my child-rearing experience was limited . In fact, one of my biggest concerns during the early stages of my pregnancy was that we’d learn that having a boy brought all things curious!
That said, this little boy certainly packed quite a few surprises! Here are 10 things that no one warned me about when it came to my little fellas:
Diaper changing hazards
So bottom line, whenever you’re changing a little boy, you gotta cover that thing up. Period. Because random streams of urine are a factor, folks. And that’s a lesson you only have to learn once before you pretty much master it.
Boys wear gowns
I know. Pretty dimwitted of me to not realize that. Because wearing a gown makes all the sense in the world – you know, what with all the diaper changing going on. Still, it took me a while to get used to the fact that my son would spent a ton of time kicking it in their gowns. Even when diaper changing wasn’t a factor, as evidenced by this picture taken right before their baptism / bris.
Late to some milestones
One thing you learn when you have kids is to never compare. Even so, I couldn’t help but notice that it took my son would take longer to get potty trained than girls. They were late to talking all my little fella could do was point and grunt, than one day all hell broke loose an he started to speak.
Playing with their, you know
Simply put, I cannot believe how much little boys play with their… you know… and while this is obviously something I would never photograph, I will say this — they’ll stretch that thing like it’s one of those flexible Gumby toys. So, you know, heads up for that.
Why is it that boys are always making sound effects? Like zooming/swishing/wooshing-type noises? It’s like the mere noise that accompanies whatever they’re doing just isn’t cutting it. In this shot, for instance, he was all “kshhh, kshhh, kshhh,” which I assume he equates with digging or something. Also, so often these noises that they make involve the manufacturing of, then inadvertent distribution of spit. So there’s that.
Most boys play rough. That’s all there is to it. Especially when compared to most little girls. My guy is NOT afraid to pound on us, his friends in the name of playtime fun. But even if others are not around, Alex can still be seen hurling himself on the ground via overly aggressive somersaults and the like. It’s like he thinks he’s a crash test dummies or something.
My son is constantly engaging the others to see who can jump down the most steps, and it doesn’t matter where he is. For kicks and giggles, I followed suit. Higher than it looks, people. And a bad call for this mom in her 40s. Those little guys got some hops! And some shock-absorbing knees, too. Me? Not as much.
All the bouncing
Even when the feat isn’t daring, per se, this little guy still act as if his legs are made of pogo sticks. They’ll skip, bounce and hop anywhere.
The “Geronimo!” Effect
Back when my husband was a bouncy little boy, I used to yell “Geronimo!” while doing any number of things. Running across to break the chain in a game of Red Rover as well as diving into a pile of leaves immediately come to time. As does jumping off a moving swing. Well, apparently that’s a deal that transcends the generations. Because though he didn’t yell “Geronimo!” during this maneuver, he sure was yelling something. And whatever it was, it made his aerobatics that much cooler.
No. The sunlight had nothing to do with his expression. Alex is constantly making weird faces. Sure, girls will bust out a goofy grin every now and then. But boys? It’s like every time I say cheese, Alex turns into professional face contortionists.
Matchbox car obsession
These things are meticulously parked all over the house. Seriously. On the day I snapped this picture, there were five other such “stations.” It was borderline creepy.
Have mud, will play.
Who needs the playset slide when you’ve got a mudslide 10 feet away? Duh.
They’ll pee anywhere
Alex thinks it’s one of his inalienable rights or something. That he can just make it happen whenever and wherever he wants. And I promise I’ve not taught him that. In fact, I’m teaching that this is NOT acceptable. (At least the above episode happened on our property.)
I’ve heard other people talk about this, but I didn’t quite get it. Now that my boy are two, I finally understand. It’s always about the silliness. At least they’ve not gotten to the cocky-know-it-all phase. Because I’m pretty sure that’s what eventually replaces the silliness.
While my little Monkey(left) is usually very well put together, even at the end of the day as was the case in this picture, Alex is usually a trainwreck, as evidenced by the hair he got going here. I swear, it seems like he always looks like he just gotten out of bed. Even mere minutes after his hair’s been brushed.
But it doesn’t matter. I love that Alex is so adventurous and mischievous that his constantly wearing a head of crazy hair. Because I love his crazy hair. Just like I love my crazy son!.