The presence of boys is evident in this household. There are guns, there are swords, dreams of Air Soft wars to take place this summer, smelly feet, and talk of armpit hair coming in. There are bears that meet me every morning when I come down to sit at the desk and check my email. And wars! Full blown sieges, really. If I wanted to pick up that book and read it alongside my coffee, forget about it. There's a battle, and everything else, including reading, is secondary to the fight at hand.
Last night there was wrestling. Steve against William. And William, you have to understand, gets high off of rough physical contact. I mean, nothing will stop him short of Steve sending him to his room. It's both hilarious and a little scary. It started with a fort, pillows everywhere, and blankets too. And ended with Steve yelling, "If you break my rib again...!!" Last time, a flailing limb of William's, we suspect it was a knee, got Steve in the chest and he's pretty sure it took out a rib. I enjoy watching it all unfold, from the comfort of a cushy chair. I keep my fingers crossed that it concludes without a black eye or bloody nose.
Last night I let Parker choose his bedtime book and it was all about knights. I know more about jousting and squires then I ever thought I would. And his construction book? He tests me every time I read it. Pointing to the vehicle on each page until I guess correctly. Just to have fun I say, "Cat! Dog! Blueberry! Banana!" He yells an emphatic No each time, huge grin on his face, until I guess it correctly. It's always fun when it gets going really fast, causing him to initially yell no at the correct one until it hits him, "Oh wait, that time she did say cement mixer that time!"
When I first married Steve, boys were everywhere and I was ill-equipped. Having only sisters (and mostly girl cousins, too!), I was lost in a sea of sweaty socks and testosterone. I understand them better now. Time and experience are a beautiful pair. There's something really nice about being the mother of boys.