The Mystery of Boys

I have to admit it - boys are a complete mystery to me. Men, now men I kind of get. They've grown up and they're my age, approximately, and grown-ups in general haven't befuddle me much. Boys are a whole 'nuther world. They're stinky and like to gross each other out, they roughhouse and their minds are blathering on about who knows what.

Which makes the fact that I have an almost-teenager a rather terrifying fact. And now that I'm seeing teenage boyhood up close and personal, I'm noticing three interesting facts:

~ The seeming inability to sit up straight unless threatened with The Look, and even then there is as much slouching going on as he thinks he can get away with.

~ The seeming loss of ability to tie shoes properly anymore. I admit, shoe-tying was a tricky battle for him. Fine motor skills like that don't always come easily to him, so bows in shoelaces were a long time in coming. So why has he apparently regressed? Half the time we go out somewhere, I look down at some point and one shoe or the other is untied. And he doesn't care. Shudder.

~ The seeming inability to detect the fact that he smells like a ripe gorilla. How can someone be standing in that cloud and not know it? He's clean, but good gravy, the boy smell that is rampant and ripe! (Being married, let me just say that I am thankful to God that this stage doesn't last forever, at least not for most men.)

I do look forward to the coming years as my boy matures and grows in God, school and life. But how he will do so and the thoughts he will be thinking during these coming years is such a mystery to me. But then, I do love a good mystery.... almost as much as I love him. :-)

My consciences sit in the back seat

There are days when I feel like the old cartoon or sitcom characters who develop little "conscience" characters who sat on the shoulders, angel on the right, devil on the left. Or Pinocchio with Jiminy Cricket, that cheerful little fellow who tried to get silly Pinocchio to do right.

I have two consciences, however, and they sit in the back seat.

You have to love the precious innocence of the child who wants to do right, and you can't help but be humbled by it. So often, we tell our children by our actions, "do as I say, not as I do" and eventually, they're going to call us on it.

Today we were driving to our new home. It's about 45 minutes away, on a road we've been on just once before. It's a windy, twisty country road, just right for zooming along and enjoying the feel of driving. Harry pipes up from the back seat, "60. Are we allowed to do 60 on this road?" Why, I don't know sugar, I haven't noticed a speed limit sign yet.

Although I had more than a suspicion that it certainly wasn't 60 through there. Ahem.

On the way back, he certainly hadn't forgotten it. He finally spied a speed limit sign and politely informed me, "45, that's the speed limit. So you can drop your speed."

Oh yes, he did. He said that. Did I mention he's 12 going on 30? How very helpful. He's going to drive some poor very lucky woman just a teensy bit nuts someday. Lord bless the child.

His sister is no better, of course. Her specialty seems to be language. We don't allow cussing in any form in our family, not even the "softer" cussing like g*sh and d*rn. But then you get in to all sorts of discussions about just what is cussing and what isn't. It seems it's human nature to need expletives of some kind, even if it's just "Oh!" or "Flitter!" or other such nonsense. But then you get the questions of how close is too close. G*sh is bad, but what about "oh, goodness!". D*rn is forbidden, but how about "drat"?

Which is the one that trips me up. And Hermione catches it every time. "I thought drat was a bad word?" Poor baby. We try to be consistent, but it's so hard sometimes isn't it?

The good Lord certainly knew what he was doing when he gave me these two. They have stretched my mind and my abilities beyond anything I knew possible. My heart overflows with love I never knew was in my grasp. And every day, I feel just a little more humbled to be their mother, entrusted with their spiritual care until they are old enough to make those decisions on their own.

Because most days, they're the ones doing the teaching.

And they are STILL asleep...

It's 9:41. BOTH kids are still sound asleep. They've had two late nights in a row, and that's after a week with my mother. (And I think Friday night was probably kind of late, too.) I decided I'd let them sleep in this morning - aren't I just the best mom? ;-)

The house is a little bit cool because it's rainy outside, plus their bedrooms are kind of dark due to the rain. I'm sure the sounds of the rain are soothing, too.

Any bets on when they'll finally get up? LOL

UPDATE: Hermione woke up on her own at 9:48.

Harry, on the other hand, I finally woke up myself at 10:35. >faint<

Anybody know where to get a pith helmet for cheap?

Machetes I've got. I need the safari helmet to protect my head. I am cleaning out Harry's bedroom.

He's nearly 12. Need I say much more?

He's obsessed with computers, and has far too many friends, including HIS DADDY, who are co-conspirators and enablers. :-D He also inherited the packrat gene that runs throughout the whole family. Getting rid of stuff is next to impossible for him. Therefore, I'm going to do it for him - because he's gone and can't say a word about it! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA...........

Two years ago, I cleaned his room and moved Hermione out of the room. One thing I did was box up all the building blocks and alphabet blocks, plus all the many toy tools he'd owned for years. I gave them all to friends with a three year old son. At the time, he was nearly 9 and Hermione was nearly 7; they had both long since outgrown all of them but wouldn't get rid of them.

TWO MONTHS LATER, neither of them had noticed. I only told them after two months because we were going to the home where I had sent the toys and didn't want them to discover them by accident, thus precipitating a meltdown.

I seriously wonder if they would have EVER missed them if I hadn't owned up to it, LOL.

I wonder how much I can get away with this time........

Wordless Wednesday