When I moved out of my mum and dad’s, and into my first wee house with my boyfriend, I was the ripe old age of 21 with a three-month old baby in tow.
Talk about a being thrown in at the deep end!
Since then – 5 years, one more baby and a wedding – I have come to realise one major thing…
Boys are absolutely minging. They are disgusting, they smell, they talk about poo constantly and seem to hate wearing any form of clothing as they’ve usually got something hanging out. Unfortunately for me (and the nearby public) all of these points apply to my husband aswell.
Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change them for the world….. but my god, they are revolting. Who knew pee could cover such a wide area, when your only aiming it in one (rather large) place? Or that football is on, in at least one country, every.single.night. Or that there are a million and one hiding places for a piece of fruit your lovely son has planked whilst exclaiming to you “I looooove fruit mummy!” Grrrrrr.
Why do they insist on bringing every form of creepy crawly bug in from the garden, naming it Fred, (or Brendan after their best friend) and attempting to keep it as a pet before “setting it free”…in your living room!
Wrestling – why do they do that? Why do they feel the need to sit on each other’s heads and tie each others hands behind their backs while yelling “FBI you’re under arrest cause you’re so ugly.”
The phrase of the week is “I really like boobies”…which they usually wait to holler when we’re in the middle of Tesco. They hate getting their hair washed/brushed. They hate getting washed in general. They wear smart clothes for all of five minutes before they have dribbled something down them or a mysterious mud stain has appeared.
Again, all of these still apply to my husband!
What I find even more disturbing is that I wouldn’t change them for anything. The farts, the constant poo stories, the power rangers fights…. I think I’m probably more suited to them than I ever would be to dolls and pigtails.
I then asked them one thing; the one rule I tried to put my foot down with to stop the house collapsing from testosterone overdose… would they please remember to put the toilet seat back down when they were finished. The reply?
“But why mummy? This is a boys’ house.”
Yes boys. Yes it is.