I grew up in a house of girls.
The majority of my childhood my dad was off traveling for work, so we really only saw him on Saturdays and Sundays before he would be taking off again for the next week.
So yes, it was 4 women, and thus there were lots of Barbie play, tea parties, dress up, and makeup demos. I would even play with all my baby dolls and pretend they were my daughters and take them for grand walks in the woods and tea parties under the huge pine tree with my sisters.
I didn't even have any cousins or neighbors nearby, so beyond interacting with boys at school (which, of course, could give you cooties until late middle school/high school) I had NO idea what kind of play my boys would do.
They have quickly informed me though, about how BOYS play, much to my dismay.
You see, there are no quiet tea parties going on in our play kitchen. NOOOOO.
Instead, they are building bombs to get bad buys, poisoning food to get bad guys, and cooking stuff they declare to be better than the veggies I try to stuff in them on a daily occurrence. Usually all this cooking goes on with quite a LOUD fan fare; the results usually have food thrown about everywhere, the play table turned topsey turvy, and an impromptu battle against bad guys takes place involving the poor play cupcakes.
Occasionally they will take the baby doll we have on a ride in the grocery cart, but usually the baby gets covered in items they pick up around the playroom, like the play food, blankets, baskets, and trains, and when they are done, she is usually tossed into the play oven.
I am a bit worried about their future parenting techniques.
Needless to say, I am a bit out of water with boy stuff. Most of what they play makes me cringe and I often find myself repeating:
Calm Down!
Slow Down!
Be Careful!
Be Gentle!!
Don't Throw THAT!
Don't Jump On Your Brother!
NOT IN FRONT OF THE STAIRS!!!
Those are pretty much all the phrases I need to get through my day.
Lately, their new game is "wreaking ball".
What, may you ask, is wreaking ball?
It is when one guy stands braced in the doorway and the other one RUNS at him AS FAST AS HE CAN and attempts to knock down the guy in the doorway.
The first time they played it a few nights ago, I didn't quite realize what they were doing, because all I caught were glimpses of them as they ran by the kitchen, and then I would hear hysterical laughter, so I figured all was good.
Parenting mistake number one-o-one: I should have remembered that just as equally dangerous as silence is hysterical laughter.
Later, when Bill got home he saw what they were doing and thought it was fantastic, and when I asked for more details on why he thought them running down the hall was so great, he pulled me out to the living room to show me the impact moment.
It was quite lucky Bill was there because I just about lost it.
I mean, really, THAT is a GAME? And they kept taking turns and doing it over and over and over....and over.
I was certain someone was going to get seriously injured and wanted to put a stop to it; however, Bill reminded me to step back and let them be; they are boys.
Which, I trust my husband with, since he and his brother were, apparently, just like these guys.
And they WERE having fun. And taking turns. And Sharing. And getting energy out.
It was just giving me a heartattack to watch, because, after all, it was a lot of WORK and PAIN to get those guys into this world, so I certainly don't want them to break each other.
So I had to go to something a bit more calm, like washing dishes.
