My charming son Zachary came in this morning, sat in my office and let rip an enormous fart.
Raising boys can be so... charming sometimes. They get mad when I say boys are like having dogs- but I mean it in a good way. Dogs are loyal- my beanie girl is currently sitting at my feet, as always. Boys are loyal too- I mean, not any more or less than girls but I'm trying to say something nice here.
Mind you, I just had my office bombed.
I can remember when the kids were young, and my friend, the martha stewart of parenting, would call and say, yes, the girls are in the house coloring...
it would be a day where it was snowing/raining/hailing/hurricane- you decide. My boys would no more sit down to a day of arts and crafts than fly to the moon. Well, they wanted to fly to the moon, that was the problem.
I'd be getting my kids into whatever gear needed- snowsuits, rain boots, protective goggles- to take them outside. See, like dogs, they needed to go out, no matter what.
I was always jealous of my friend. Her girls were so low key. It's not any different today. My kids still need to be run daily. Loafing around all day leads to major fights at night because their energy levels haven't been tapped all day. And we've moved into some special behavior- farting for instance- which hold appeal I believe until they reach their 40's.
Right now, I'm looking out in my front hall and there are shoes, and flip flops, and dirty socks, and an old Halloween costume on the floor. I'll never have a clean house. Ever again.
Dogs, I tell you, are a lot tidier. Sure, they shed but they don't wear socks.
Oh, I know. I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. And like my dog, they will end up well trained.
You can bet on that.