Please welcome another blogathon blogger, Sarah E. Ludwig. Sarah is the mom to four mostly wonderful kids, 11-year-old fraternal twin girls and a nearly-7-year-old and 5-year-old boys. She works from home as a freelance writer and blogs about the necessity of flexibility in raising kids at Parenting by Trial and Error. Sarah is also a contributor on Larger Families.
I have to admit that I’m a bit of a novice when it comes to all things boy-related. Because my experience is so limited, I could be noticing differences between my boys and my girls that are purely personality and not pertaining to gender at all, so please excuse any inaccurate generalizations I may make regarding boys.
I was raised in a family with two sisters, so there are some boy areas that still mystify me, even though my sons are nearly-7 and 5. For instance, why are boys so ridiculously entertained by potty talk? Just mention the word “underwear” or “poop” and it unleashes a series of endless giggles. Bodily functions are also a major source of amusement, often forced and always embellished, sometimes at the dinner table, much to my dismay. My daughters were never prone to behavior like this.
I was raised in a family with two sisters, so there are some boy areas that still mystify me, even though my sons are nearly-7 and 5. For instance, why are boys so ridiculously entertained by potty talk? Just mention the word “underwear” or “poop” and it unleashes a series of endless giggles. Bodily functions are also a major source of amusement, often forced and always embellished, sometimes at the dinner table, much to my dismay. My daughters were never prone to behavior like this.
They’re so rough with each other too. I can hardly bear to watch them playing because it involves -- what looks to me like -- painful bodily contact. They wrestle, punch and smack each other, but rarely cry afterwards over what would have had their sisters in tears immediately.
My boys almost always take a bath together and I often listen to them talking and playing. A lot of their conversation has to do with a particular body part, with which the obsession clearly starts early. Discussions about size and shape are punctuated with hysterical laughter. I just shake my head in disbelief.
Perhaps the worst part is the amount of toilet cleaning that comes with having little boys. Unless you want your toilet to look worse than the underside of an outhouse, multiple wipe-downs are necessary on a daily basis.
Another perplexing behavior is the habitual crotch grabbing. Is that just my sons or is this a universal male habit found mainly in young boys?
“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” I ask multiple times a day.
My boys almost always take a bath together and I often listen to them talking and playing. A lot of their conversation has to do with a particular body part, with which the obsession clearly starts early. Discussions about size and shape are punctuated with hysterical laughter. I just shake my head in disbelief.
Perhaps the worst part is the amount of toilet cleaning that comes with having little boys. Unless you want your toilet to look worse than the underside of an outhouse, multiple wipe-downs are necessary on a daily basis.
Another perplexing behavior is the habitual crotch grabbing. Is that just my sons or is this a universal male habit found mainly in young boys?
“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” I ask multiple times a day.
“No,” the perpetrator always replies.
“Then don’t do that,” I say, pointing at the offending hand, which immediately drops.
As much as some of the boy stuff they do baffles and drives me crazy though, I love having sons. There’s nothing like my little boys’ kisses and cuddles; nothing like having a little guy tell me he wants to marry me and sincerely meaning it; nothing like seeing how much they want to protect me and knowing how that instinct will most likely grow as they get older.
Now if I could just get them to aim more accurately…
“Then don’t do that,” I say, pointing at the offending hand, which immediately drops.
As much as some of the boy stuff they do baffles and drives me crazy though, I love having sons. There’s nothing like my little boys’ kisses and cuddles; nothing like having a little guy tell me he wants to marry me and sincerely meaning it; nothing like seeing how much they want to protect me and knowing how that instinct will most likely grow as they get older.
Now if I could just get them to aim more accurately…
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