When I found out that the wiggly little being inside of me was a boy, I was even more excited…and a little terrified. I am no tom-boy. I’ve never played on a sports team in my life, and I was more than a little unsure about how to raise a little boy.
I laugh now as I think back on those early moments of doubt, and I’m truly grateful for the reassurance of a good friend who told me how wonderful little boys are. Now I have two little boys, and while I sometimes wonder what it would be like to add a frilly little girl to the mix, I can honestly say that I would be just as happy if in the end my house is filled to bursting with a pack of loud, crazy boys.
Here are SEVEN reasons why being a mom of boys is awesome:
1. They are FUNNY!
Little Man has an awesome sense of humor. There’s simply nothing better than hearing his belly laugh when he watches Charlie Brown act like a fool in The Peanuts Movie. He wants so badly to make me laugh, too. His knock-knock jokes need some work, but the goofy grin he gives me when he thinks he’s being funny is enough to make me laugh for him.
2. They are simple.
My boys don’t care what they wear, they say what they mean, and they’re not manipulative at all. No divas for me. I’ll take my straightforward, heart-on-their-sleeves boys any day.
3. They might be able to teach ME to throw a ball someday.
Like I said, I’m not what you would call “sporty.” If I had been a Spice Girl back in the day, I probably would have been “Reading Spice” or something. I have hope though, that if I learn to play sports along with my boys (starting at the expectation level of a three-year-old sounds less intimidating to me), then I might actually be able to make a basket some day.
4. I always know when we pass a car transporter.
I did not realize that a few years into parenthood I would be able to differentiate between a combine harvester and a backhoe. But boy has Little Man insisted that we learn. He’s had an obsession with trucks since before he could talk, and now that he can talk, he always points out the different trucks we pass on the road, or see in books or movies.
5. They are happy to play in the dirt ALL day.
There is a definition of boys that I love: “noise with dirt on it.” Yep, that’s about right. When we first moved into our house, we had no landscaping. But Little Man (age one at the time) couldn’t have been happier. He would sit in the dirt and dig for hours. I think he was actually disappointed when we finally did put in grass. In fact, there is still one flower bed we haven’t planted because we can’t bring ourselves to ruin the boys’ favorite digging spot. Good thing a bigger sandbox is the next outdoor project on our list.
6. They taught me how cool dinosaurs are. Need I say more? Why didn’t anyone tell me as a kid how fascinating dinosaurs are? I love that I get to learn the difference between sauropods and theropods with Little Man. He’s recently become a little obsessed with which dinosaurs are meat eaters and which are plant eaters…it’s a little morbid, but pretty funny, too.
7. Someday, they will be bigger than me. Whenever I picture my boys grown up, I always imagine a scene from the movie, A River Runs Through It. If you don’t have an avid fly-fisherman for a father, you may not have seen it, so I’ll recap: two grown brothers are arguing in the kitchen, the mom tries to come between them and falls down, the boys escalate their fighting, both now lividly exclaiming, “You hit MOM!” to which the mom replies, trying to placate them, “I slipped. I SLIPPED!” I love the fierce loyalty the boys show to their mother (despite the ridiculous situation), and I imagine that someday I’ll be able to walk down the street with my “little” boys on each side of me, and they’ll be towering over me.
Oh how I love being mom to these little boys. They are loud, crazy, rough-and-tumble, and I often don’t quite know what to do with them, but I love the energy they bring to my life. I love the way they explore the world and how they want to protect me from attacking monsters. And I love how at the end of it all, they still want to snuggle me before they go to bed at night. I know they probably won’t always want their mom to give them kisses–someday they’ll be too big and tough for that (I hope not)–but I’m going to squeeze in as many as I can while they’ll let me. They are my boys, and I wouldn’t trade them for all the girls in the world.
Why do YOU love little boys?
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