Boys

It's a good thing I have a strong healthy ego most of the time when it comes to my parenting abilities. If I didn't, I'd likely need therapy for years based solely on Grant's everyday actions. I have to remind myself daily to ignore the glares from moms of girls only, that chasing after him will end at some point, that sitting down to chat with friends at a playdate isn't going to happen, and that just because he spit on his gymnastics teacher today doesn't mean I'm a bad parent. Seriously, if I had realized he was going to spit I wouldn't have let him walk over to her. Fortunately, she knows us well, and loves Grant's "enthusiasm", so she was only a little grossed out. I was mortified. So was the mom of the girl who was doing a make up class.

I've also learned to laugh along with the people who say "boys will be boys" or "wow, he's got a lot of energy" or "girls are so different than boys, aren't they?" or "are you worn out at the end of the day?". What else can I do?

I recognize I'll need to always make sure I have health insurance for him, a bright hat on his head so I can see him running away at the park, and a well stocked first aid kit. I recognize he'll test my idea of safety and likely never be afraid of heights. He's going to ride his bike fast, kick his soccer ball hard, and throw a baseball with speed. He even cannon balls off the diving board instead of just jumping in.

And as busy as his little wriggly body is most of the time, he also loves snuggles when he's tired, hugs me goodnight with a biiig squeeze, and still insists on kissing both of my cheeks. He sidles up next to whoever will read him a book, ducking under their arm and molding himself to them. His giggle is infectious, he's always up for a silly game involving facial expressions, and he adores playing with Emma, even if that means he has to wear fairy wings. He's a pretty cool little dude.