I'm so happy to have a couple little boys growing up in my house. I have daydreams of many grossly entertaining episodes in our future. This was not always the case. I used to think I'd be a terrible choice of mother for a boy. What did I know about raising a boy? Nothing. I knew what I liked big boys for, but I didn't think that would make for heartfelt, non-creepy life lessons learned from mom moments. Turns out, I'm alright with the little boy ickiness because they are also sweet to their mommy when she needs it.
* Gross first or sweet first? Sweet. Wasn't nearly as funny. *
After we got home last night, I was quickly scanning the pantry and mentally picturing the items in our refrigerator, trying to figure out something to feed them for dinner so that I could then retreat to my bed to relax my knee (damn driving is killing my knee's healing progress). I made some mention of my leg hurting, may actually have just been some knee-grabbing and high-pitched noises of agony, but M picked up on this and promptly told me I needed to go to bed and lay down. My little man trying to take care of his momma, the sweetness of that boy was dropping off in cubes of sugar right then. He was also the one that dutifully stood by my head Sunday while I was bedridden, stroking my hair, looking at me with sadness and pity.
All that nurturing love is totally gone when it's bedtime, by the way. When it's time to put on the pajamas and go to sleep, those boys couldn't care less that mom's got to cling to a wall every time she has to move into an upright position and only focus on their needs to find their toys or replace their blankets or readjust their sleeping bags. But, you know, it's all heart-warming while it lasts; they wouldn't want me getting spoiled;>
Now, as for this unexpected joy of boys thing - the amusement that comes from things apparently innately characteristic of those possessing Y chromosomes - that happened the night after I first hurt my knee.
Since I had declared my leg out of commission, the boys had to come to me to get ready for bed. So, J is standing on my bed just out of reach as I'm attempting to wrestle him into submission without moving my leg, and M is on the floor,
treasuring his safe distance from my arms patiently waiting for his turn. After J is stripped down to bare-butt nakedness, a lightbulb is ignited in his head, and he decides it is time for some classy entertainment to close out the evening. With M directly in the line of fire, J bends over, butt facing M, and farts. Not some delicate little break of wind. A full-fledged fart that even a group of fraternity brothers would have given him a high-five for. Oh how amusing this was! He continued to repeat the movements without the action several times over, even going as far as to grab and spread his cheeks for a couple attempts, delightedly declaring that he was going stinky on his brother. I'm not sure I've ever heard them laughing so much at each other.
In case you weren't yet sure, I also found this show to be hilarious. I am not a flatulent person, myself, and have never had the brilliant notion to fart on someone, so I can only conclude that this behavior is just something boys are born to envision and embrace...and, I love it;>