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.


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.