An Ode to Moms of Boys

I don't know if you would call it a premonition or women's intuition, but even before I was pregnant I think I knew that I was destined to have a little boy.

I always found myself drawn to baby boy things ... maybe it's because my favorite color is blue or maybe it's the fact that little boys have way cooler toys than little girls. I mean who wouldn't rather have a fully automated tractor with lights and sounds than a baby doll?

However, I also knew that being a mom to a boy would come with it's ... challenges. When I was a child I was by far a girly girl. I loved dolls, dresses and pretty things. I do have a brother, but he is older. So I entered motherhood with very little expertise regarding little boys (aside from the babysitting gigs I did when I was a teenager).

Now, just 2.5 years later, I think I've definitely adapted to the world of boyhood very well. I've come to expect that his shoes will always be muddy and that about three months after purchasing a new pair, there will inevitably be a hole in his left shoe from the way he squats on the floor to play with his toy trucks. I've also become accustomed to all of the boy Disney movies, of which his favorite movie of all time is Cars.

However, there are still surprises.

About six months ago, little man came home and picked up his little hockey stick and started to run about the house acting like it was a gun.

"Pew! Pew!" He would say as he pretended to shoot things around the house.

I have no idea where he learned this from. Toy guns are not a part of little man's extensive toy repertoire, nor do we watch any violent movies or television shows while little eyes are still open. I think he must have picked it up by watching other kids at the park, at the babysitters, etc. All that matters is he learned it somehow and mama was not happy about it. But, I guess you can't shield them forever. He was bound to learn it sometime.

Fortunately, little man is more obsessed with trucks and tractors at this moment to really play "gun" games, so it hasn't been much of a concern since that first night many months ago.

But then, I faced a new "gun" situation two nights ago.

And it was a doozie.

While getting little man ready for bedtime we were doing our nightly routine of changing the pull-up, putting on jammies, brushing teeth, etc. As I stood little man up on his changing table to put on a new pull-up, I suddenly heard it.

"Pew! Pew!"

Little man's gun sound.

Only this time it wasn't a hockey stick. It was his ... boyhood.

(Yes, that one.)

There, stark naked on the changing table, my little man was shooting imaginary monsters with his ... gun.

I was dumbfounded. I was also reminded that little boys are definitely different than little girls in many, many ways.

I wanted to laugh, but I knew I couldn't. Every mother of a toddler knows that you should not ever laugh at something your child does unless it's behavior you're willing to accept. Because if you do, they will do it again and again and again ... and again.

As much as I tried to just pull on his new pull-up as fast as I could, little man then focused on me, and began shouting "Pew! Pew!" at me and shooting me with his "gun."

And I laughed.

It was too hard not to.

I was never told by other mothers of boys to be ware of the "gun." I never would have thought that he would want to play "gun" with that part. But, again, I am not a boy. And I guess it's moments like that that make being a mother to a boy so much fun.

And interesting, to say the least.

So, to other mothers of boys, here's a 21-gun salute to you.