Boys Will Be Boys

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You have to agree with me if you’re a mom, that you always have this eerie feeling when things just aren’t right.  One day as my two older boys played upstairs with their friend, my mommy sixth sense revved into high gear. I had heard the boys playing in one of the upstairs bedrooms and doing the typical amount of quarreling over Lego pieces and other toys as they spent the afternoon with their best buddy.  All was normal.

I was down in the kitchen getting dinner started and keeping baby Ben happy and entertained in his nip-nap on the kitchen counter.  It was summer and the weather was balmy and pleasant.  I remember the front door being open with the screen door allowing the sounds of the traffic on our street to waft through the house.  The evening was promising to be delightful.  Maybe we’d get the neighborhood gang together for an impromptu game of soccer.  There were six little boys all around the same age in various houses on our block who ended up growing up together in elementary school.  They were like the Sandlot gang; always hanging out at each other’s homes, walking to school side by side, having sleepovers and Lego competitions, and playing in the school band together. They were inseparable.

Our older two were only about seven and five years old— just the right age to encourage that competitive nature that is so male. Their neighbor friend was seven as well.  Before long, the competition turned to who could hit the friend’s house next door by peeing out the bedroom window? It had grown very quiet as the boys took turns positioning themselves again the windowsill to see who had the best equipment and the greatest capacity to reach across the narrow side yard?

Imagine my creeping up the carpeted hall stairs and stealthily inching my way toward their room to poke my head in quietly and find out what they were up to.  It is always a parental challenge to discipline with firmness when what you really want to do it burst out laughing.  I stated calmly that I thought perhaps there was something else they could find to do that did not involve messing up our friend’s siding. However, when I returned to the kitchen, I immediately called my husband to relay the story in hushed tones as I tried hard to squelch my guffaws.

The moral of this story: to pee or not to pee, that is the question!

**This is an excerpt from “MOMMY MEMOIRS~ A Hilarious and Heartwarming Look at the Trials and Triumphs of Being a Mom”, slated to be released on Feb. 1st as a paperback by Morgan James Publishing, NYC.