Wednesday, November 16, 2005

About the Boy

Our first three children are girls. They are as different as one flower is from another, but each of them are flowers. I didn't know what to expect with the fourth, a boy. Something wild, I supposed, something more mushroom than flower.

And he was born, ready or not, in the middle of a thunderstorm, wrinkled like a morel.

He is surrounded by pink and bright and Barbie dolls. It's hardly the ideal environment to grow a mushroom. But Barbies make nice clubs and there are increasingly more cars and balloons and balls for him to play with.

. . . . . . . .

And Anna just threw up. Nice. Everyone in the house, taking their cue from Daddy, begins crying for Mommy. Gotta run.

4 comments:

truevyne said...

Our family is the mirror of yours. Three boys first. Legoes and swords- snails and puppy dog tails.
Our girl was born literally during a crack of thunde (isn't that interesting?), and now we have pink and princesses mixed in the armor and slingshots.

Sherry C said...

My son hates it when the pink and blue worlds collide, compliments of his little sister.

From an actual converstation a year or two ago:

Her: And now it's time for the Rescue Heroes to take their nap.

Him: Rescue Heroes don't take naps.

Her: Yes they do! They get tired from saving the world, you know.

Him: They don't take naps!

Her: Yes they do! Their mommy says they have to!

Him: There is no mommy in Rescue Heroes.

Her: Oh, yes there is! Everyone has a mommy, you know.

Him: MOM!!! Can you make her play somewhere else??

Jamie Dawn said...

You're all crying for Mommie.
Too bad Barbies don't clean up vomit. I guess that will have to be your job today. You can always club Anna with a Barbie as punishment.

Scott said...

Jamie, you'd be proud of me. I was on the verge of vomiting on the back of my daughter's head as I held back her hair, but I sucked it up, so to speak, and held out like a real man.