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My two year-old son is awesome. He is sweet and snuggly and funny and he enjoys a good game of "Run and Scream." But he is definitely not a girl.
I grew up in a girly house. My poor dad never stood a chance. It was me, my sister and my mom (and the cat was a girl too) pink-ing up the house for him and spreading our cooties all over the place. So, I have no idea how to be around boys. And now I'm supposed to raise one.
When the ultrasound tech told us we were having a boy, I was excited, but I was also kind of scared because I am not a boy and I never had any brothers. But I decided right there on that table with my belly covered in surgical lubricant that I would raise a "nice boy." You know, the kind of boy who holds the door open for you, walks old ladies across the street and likes to play quietly with puzzles and read books. I was definitely NOT going to have a rowdy boy who pulls on girls' pigtails and burps the alphabet.
Fast-forward two years and my plan isn't exactly working out. I have to say that Logan is quick to give hugs and will often try to console his sister when she is crying. But, my goodness, he is LOUD! I went running a few weeks ago and I could hear him yelling halfway down the block. He also seems to only have two speeds: full throttle and unconscious. But I think the place where I'm losing the most ground is in his vocabulary. In the last two weeks, Logan has picked up a bunch of new words which include, but are not limited to: pee, poop, burp, toot (his word for passing gas) and bum. I don't have a problem with these words as a general rule; they are useful words that describe bodily functions and body parts. I even taught him most of them, but I most certainly did not teach him that these words are funny. He learned that one all by himself. And as much as I wish he wouldn't yell "Bummmmm!!!!!!!" and howl with laughter, I have to admit it is pretty funny to see him laughing so hard.
He has also mastered the role of "pesky little brother." He just loves to play with his sister's toys, but according to Katherine he does it wrong and it makes her crazy. But the louder she yells, the funnier he thinks it is. He teases his sister by stealing her dress-ups and wearing them wrong ("Logan! Take off my apron! It does NOT go on your head!!!") or driving her Barbie car Thelma and Louise-style off the ottoman with appropriate sound effects.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am raising a rowdy boy who loves to bug his sister and eat bugs. But the more time I spend being the mother of a boy, the more I realize that his rough and tumble ways don't bother me. I love that he has such a zest for life and that he takes joy in just diving in head-first (you know, except when it's into a piece of furniture). In fact, I'm proud of the person he is and I love him exactly the way he is. But, let me be clear: he may burp the alphabet some day or follow in his father's footsteps and eat erasers to gross out the girl who sits in front of him at school, but he will also hold doors open for you and walk old ladies across the street. He may be wild, but he's no caveman.
PS: Happy Mother's Day
