I love watching my boys play. Everything is so magical to them; listening to Little Dude's little voice as he acts out story lines and interactions with his toys makes me think back to when I was little and played with my dolls.
And the thinking back made me think a lot about myself and how I always wanted to be a boy, because the boys have so much fun!
Well, even though 20 years later I have decided it does indeed rock to be a girl, watching my sons tumble in the grass, eat dirt, get filthy, all the while getting nods of approval and "oh, boys will be boys" comments as they stumble into Grandma and Grandpa's house has made me reach for that inner kid that never left.
So today I played football with my sons, and Little Dude actually tackled me-then sat on me. I think I mostly fell because I was so surprised by the little body flying against mine that I couldn't think fast enough to get my balance; his tackle style isn't quite NFL material yet; however, it still hurt. We quickly established the rule he WAS NOT allowed to sit on or tackle JR; I think JR was mad I was curbing their fun, because then HE threw the football at my head (I was still trying to get off the ground when he threw it.) Needless to say, today we all ended up coming into Grandma and Grandpa's house pretty dirty.
It was fun to be one of the boys.