Mothering Many

So! We had dental appointments today. For logistical reasons, we go four at a time, which is normally against the rules, but they worked with me. While I was driving us there, Spidey piped up and asked “why are we going up?” I answered him with “Because that’s the way the cookie crumbles, that’s the way the road goes.” And from way in the back, Stuntman exclaims, “that’s the way the french fries are eaten”. Yep, we have a new family standard.

My first born son has kept me either giggling or tearing my hair out since he was born. Don’t let anyone ever tell you that boys are not different from girls. They are. From needing cute little baby boy clothes in 48 shades of blue, instead of frilly pink lace, to their jokes as they grow up, they are different.

I remember distinctly the first time Stuntman made the car noise. He was about six months old, and no one had taught him to make that sound, and all of a sudden, there it was, hanging in the air, almost visible……vroooooom. And bugs, oh my, yes, they do love bugs, and frogs, and assorted slimy creatures. And also flying, with or without the Superman cape, but especially when wearing only underwear.

It was my son who taught me again that playing in the rain could be fun. He was the first one to ever ask “why” when I said, “come in, it’s raining.” And it was his logical “but we get wet when we take a bath” that made me change my mind and let them all play outside anyway.

Different isn’t bad, though it can be a little scary. In fact, I realized I had crossed over to a mother of sons the first time I put my hands in my pockets and drew out marbles and hot wheels instead of hair bows. I knew it was going to be okay, the first time I made one giggle by driving that car on his arm.