By: Wendy Rhein
I love little boys. Grown boys too, but that’s not what I’m talking about here.
I’m talking about little boys. Mid-sized boys. Boys before they can drive and ask your daughters out on dates. I’m sure I’ll love those boys too but right now, I’m in awe of little boys.
They can turn any song into a laugh-fest by adding the words fart, poop, pee or plop.
They develop a swagger that comes with their first tight group of friends.
They can be louder than a freight train one minute and then absolutely silent for an hour. Just add Legos.
They want to play soccer but during the games they are more impressed with a stray yellow balloon floating in the sky than the ball coming at their heads.
They still talk to their mothers about the prettiest girl in their class and who (else) likes her.
Every cardboard box holds secret potential as a fort.
Little boys pretend they are Voldemort by filling a sweatshirt hood with sand, slinging it on their heads, and then spinning around, watching sand fly everywhere, mostly down their shirts and pants.
Little boys want to cook. They want to clean the bathroom mirror. They want to put away their clothes, if you give then a penny. A penny is MONEY. Real money.
Little boys want to know if you can make a sword out of toast and if the Easter Bunny farts powdered sugar.
Little boys still want a morning snuggle before dawn. They still want to hold your hand in the parking lot. They still run to their moms to fix a broken shoelace or a scraped elbow. They still believe their moms can do anything.
Love em. Just love em.