When I was a little girl what I wanted the most in the whole world was to be a boy, which was confusing I'm sure to my parents in 1970s Small Town, Canada. It was probably also a little heartbreaking for my mom who liked hair-dos and fancy dresses of which I wanted no part. I made her cut off my long hair into something boyish around age 4. My crowning achievement (which I still remember) was around age 4.5 – we were out for dinner and our server leaned over and asked, "...and what would the little boy like?". I was in heaven.
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| Taken before I broke my mother's heart. I am 2.5-ish. |
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| New 'do but things hadn't improved much by this point. I am around 3.5 here and am rocking a mean Nate pout. |
The thing is, what I really wanted was to play with legos and cars and maybe make a Matchbox racetrack without having to feel weird about it, which I more or less did in Small Town, Canada with the support of my parents.
Still, wanting to be a boy and even executing it well enough to fool the wait staff at a restaurant is not the same thing as being a boy.
If I had a time machine and showed up as a 3.5 year old girl who was wanting to be a boy I'm not sure I'd be interested in playing with my own 3.5 year old boys which was a legit question Gamma Rita asked me today. Legos, cars and Matchbox track? Yes. I still like all of those things.
Wrestling, roughhousing, head bonks and broken toys? Hmmm... not so much. I've had my share of head bonks (recent ones) so I speak from experience. Wrestling on my terms is kind of fun, but only when it ends up with smooches. Broken toys made me cry when I was little – I took such great care with my things so when something broke or got damaged it didn't go over well (and 99% of the time it was some other kid's fault and yes, I'm still bitter about the kid who dented the googly eyes on my stuffed monkey and yes, it's been at least 38 years and I should get over it already).
All this to say that I made a very popular "jump track" today that we all had fun with, but when I left the room said jump track became an airborne fighting device of some kind. Seth was willing to do a dramatic re-enactment before I shut the party down:
Still, wanting to be a boy and even executing it well enough to fool the wait staff at a restaurant is not the same thing as being a boy.
If I had a time machine and showed up as a 3.5 year old girl who was wanting to be a boy I'm not sure I'd be interested in playing with my own 3.5 year old boys which was a legit question Gamma Rita asked me today. Legos, cars and Matchbox track? Yes. I still like all of those things.
Wrestling, roughhousing, head bonks and broken toys? Hmmm... not so much. I've had my share of head bonks (recent ones) so I speak from experience. Wrestling on my terms is kind of fun, but only when it ends up with smooches. Broken toys made me cry when I was little – I took such great care with my things so when something broke or got damaged it didn't go over well (and 99% of the time it was some other kid's fault and yes, I'm still bitter about the kid who dented the googly eyes on my stuffed monkey and yes, it's been at least 38 years and I should get over it already).
All this to say that I made a very popular "jump track" today that we all had fun with, but when I left the room said jump track became an airborne fighting device of some kind. Seth was willing to do a dramatic re-enactment before I shut the party down:
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| – "I hold aloft my magic sword..." |
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| – I could sit here and do this all day. And I mean that. |
3.5 years and no visits to the ER. I'm not sure how we've made it this far to be honest since most days my boys are bent on ending it all – or at least taking someone's eye out. Listen, I like a good time as much as the next person but keeping my boys from killing themselves is a full-time job which grows more challenging by the day.
And I know I've hinted at it before, but there really is a post coming called "This Is What Real Life Looks Like".*
- L.
*Real life with 3.5 year old boys that is. I imagine other people's real lives are a bit different and probably come with less destruction and mayhem.
And I know I've hinted at it before, but there really is a post coming called "This Is What Real Life Looks Like".*
- L.
*Real life with 3.5 year old boys that is. I imagine other people's real lives are a bit different and probably come with less destruction and mayhem.
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