How a boy grows up.

I was talking with a friend today about the particular challenges one has while raising a boy to be a man. And, when I say I'd like my son to be a man, I'm saying nothing about his character...and everything about the living, breathing qualities that a man posesses. I'd like my son to survive so he can REACH manhood, you know? I'm shooting low, here.

I'm probably being a little dramatic, as my little buddy hasn't really set any fires or severed any limbs YET. But there is something about a boy...my boy...that seems to lack control. I told my friend some advice that a neighbor passed along (a mother of two rowdy boys herself). She said, "you can discipline till you're blue in the face but sometimes with boys, you just have to wait until they're mature enough to get it and APPLY it." We pondered this tidbit of wisdom as we watched the boys pig pile each other in the middle of a filthy arcade floor.

So I guess...we just wait. For the maturity to sink in. For the light bulb to go off when they realize that their brain controls their limbs. That playing by the rules ends up working in their favor in the end. That the stove is hot. That the Tran*sformers will break if thrown against the tile floor repeatedly. That every single solitary floor in public USA, be it in a restaurant, theater, church, toy store or library, is DISGUSTING and they shouldn't crawl on it, eat food from it or attempt to rub their face on it. For the realization that bodies aren't invincible and scooters aren't weapons. And that pencils, tennis balls, forks, library books, flashlights, mommy's hairspray and anything from the recycling bin does NOT qualify as a weapon, either. And that toilets flush.

I woke up this morning and remembered vividly that in the night my husband sneezed--TWICE--in my face. I yelled at him, told him he was a maniacal animal, asked him to cover his mouth and roll over, and, in his zombie-like state, he did. Upon recalling this incident this morning, my husband snorted with laughter in his cereal...and truly, he hasn't stopped laughing all day long. OH how he wishes there was a video of me getting sneezed on! OH how hilarious that would be!! Har har har. Meanwhile I've had to dunk my head in boiling water to remove his snotty spray of germs. If there is anything less fun than being sneezed on TWICE, I don't even want to know about it.

Actually, I DO want to know about it, so I can do it to HIM tonight while he sleeps.

So, anyways, here's my point: I guess we'll have to wait longer for that maturity to sink in. Longer than I thought.