On Raising a Boy

While standing in line at the Post Office today, Wooly occupied himself, pulling the pretty pre-printed boxes off the shelf.  He tried to put them back, but from the look he gave me, I could tell that he was struggling.  He asked for help without asking and thankfully, as I needed to hold our place in line, Hibiscus was with us to help him.  

The Aunty standing behind us in line was such a nice lady.  In thick pigeon she commented, "He wouldn't be a boy if he didn't get into everything."

A comment like that, put that lady on my BFF list!  In our short conversation, I discovered that she had two boys herself, both grown now.  I'd like to meet her sons, to size them up against the few stories I heard about them while waiting in line at the Post Office.  If they turned out half-decent, there might be hope for my own, Little Mister Mischief.   

Still, I wonder if she ever had to say the kind of things that I have to say to Wooly?  Just this morning, for kicks, I kept a tally of how many times I had to repeat a few of my favorite staple phrases.   

"No, Wooly, you cannot call your sister a Fart."

"Don't spit at your sister!"

"No, Wooly, you cannot pee on your sister."

...and my personal favorite, the one I have to try really hard to say without laughing...


"No, Wooly, you cannot throw avacados at the neighbor's cat."

And those were just the few that we came up with before breakfast.

But, I guess if I take it from the Aunty who knows, he wouldn't be a boy otherwise.

Always on the grow,