And I got one. Oh boy, did I.
Baby G has me convinced more than ever that there are innate gender traits born with a baby boy (and I am sure the same is true for girls-- despite my love of sports, I have been a "mother-er" from the time I could talk, and oh how I loved my little baby doll Jemima). I remember a former boyfriend once telling me that as long as he had some dirt and sticks he could play outside by himself for hours. I didn't think much of it, in fact, I kind of thought he was exaggerating to make his point that little boys love that stuff. Now that I have a boy I know that he was being completely sincere. There is something inside of this little person that wants all things boy: tools, rocks, sticks, dirt, woodchips, weapons-- it is the stuff dreams are made of.
We can't go into a room without him pointing up to the blinds and asking for the long wand you twist to open/close them with. Did you know what a perfect sword that makes? We cannot walk to the park without him picking up a stick and then stopping to swipe at every stray leaf in our path with it. If he sees a pen or pencil he immediately says "Two!" because he wants two, one in each hand, to use as tools for getting to objects out of his reach. I could literally leave him in our backyard for hours. It is one big dirt pile, and for him it is heaven. I frequently find him walking into the shed to retrieve some of his daddy's tools and then he immediately gets to work hammering anything he can find. He even tries to use a screwdriver on little holes he finds. Tennis rackets are among his favorite tools because have you heard how loudly they can bang or seen how many things you can knock over at a time with one? And his cowboy boots? The only article(s) of clothing he has ever requested himself (and he brings them to me saying "Boots?" quite regularly). If he is getting tired of being in his carseat when we are driving I have a secret stash of rocks in the front seat that I can hand back to him. I can't even say the word "pole" without him frantically looking around for his fishing pole, and he is especially happy if he gets a fishing pole in each hand.
Little boys are pure delight. Here are some pictures of Baby G being all boy:
If I would've known about all this sooner I surely wouldn't have
decorated with long sticks-- how can I expect him to leave them alone?
Pretty much all of the ones in the front are now broken.
Cowboy boots? Check. Two fishing poles? Check. The only thing missing?
A cowboy hat. Now the look is complete.
He sat here by the water (another favorite thing) for half an hour just throwing rocks in and watching them make a spash.
Fishing with his daddy-- a dream come true. Nevermind that his feet were dangling in the FREEZING cold water, unbeknownst to his father.
I told you about the tennis rackets.
About to whack something...(don't those little shorts just kill you?)
Using a stick to hit a tree = the best part of his day.
Just doing some yardwork like his dad. He adores sweeping with this long broom (also, the boots).
Notice the cowboy boots with pajamas. It is a regular occurance.Also notice the long metal hanging rod in his hand-- a fantastic swiping tool.
Daddies working in the backyard with little boys sitting in the dirt watching.
If J starts mowing the lawn without Baby G he starts crying and gets his feelings hurt.He really thinks his help is indispensible (I'm not kidding. I don't remember the last time J
was allowed to mow without Baby G strapped to him).
For some reason it seems more okay to throw little boys this high than it would little girls.
Boyish things of note: the hammer in his left hand, the buzzed hair (his daddy cuts it), and using his right hand to get rocks out of the dirt to practice hammering on.
Even things as innocent as cheese dogs can be turned into tools/weapons (not to mention messes).
Now that I've illustrated some of the little treasures about being mom to a little boy, let me share with you my very favorite thing about having a boy. I read this on Cjane's blog and it so perfectly describes how I feel:
"I am more convinced of my personal theory about having sons. A boy needs to be constantly in love. If he can't be in love with his mother, he'll find someone or something else to captivate his admiration...Of course I am finding out that the other part of my theory is that the mother falls just as hard for her son."
My heart feels like bursting when I look down into my little boys eyes and feel of that love. I am his mama and he is in love with ME.
Mamas and their boys.
There is nothing like it.
