Friday, March 29, 2013


As many of you know, we generally like to do things "dude style" around here. After all, one lone female is not enough to balance things out so I've let go of some of my more... optimistic hopes in raising kids: things like never having pee on the floor, drinking out of cups rather than straight from the carton or faucet, a neat and tidy yard free of all the random sticks from the entire neighborhood, wearing pajamas to bed rather than nothing, and peace and quiet at any time of the day. I'm dealing with those things. I'm adapting. And constantly picking up sticks.

As Jack gets older and smarter, he's picking up on and embracing dude style as well. But he has taken it to a new level by defining its polar opposite: girlish. Anything he suspects his big brothers would frown upon is labeled "girlish," like, "Mom, if I wear those red pants, its ok! It's not girlish!" Or, "I don't want you to snuggle me right now, mom, it's too girlish." A couple days ago when I asked him to talk on the phone to a loved one he ran away yelling, "I can't!! Talking on the phone is too girlish!!"

Good point, Jack. You win that one.

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