Raising Boys . . .

After much butting-of-the-heads in a very oldest-child vs. oldest-child fashion, I decided I need some help communicating with my darling oldest child. He is such a sweet boy, and SUCH a boy, and he and his dad get along SO well (I'm almost jealous . . . ), and well, I need some new input (thanks for the tip, Christy!). I decided to check out a book called "Raising Boys: Why Boys are Different--and How to Help Them Become happy and Well-Balanced Men, by Steve Biddulph. I am no more than six pages in and already I like it. A lot. Steve has a great way of writing and man, have I lived through a lot of what he discusses! But I digress . . . I like this book so much that I read it during my lunch the other day. I left it on the table where it was transferred to the counter today without my knowledge to make room for dinner. Not a deal at all. I thought it was safe, but alas, I have boys.

In my efforts to be a good mom, and be continually teaching my children, we made brownies together tonight. Their version: Mom's famous Secret Prince Family Brownies topped with M&Ms and half with chopped up Crunch Bar. (half because I thought it would be disgusting--not a Crunch Bar fan, I'm more the "real" chocolate fan: the Chocolate Orange, or Dove for sure, or Cadbury's plain milk chocolate on occasion, although those Easter eggs are fabulous, M&Ms will do for brownies . . .) But I digress again . . . sorry, it's the chocolate thing. We have an emergency candy stash made up of Halloween candy that we bought from the kiddos at the top of one cupboard. (I know it's January, but that's another post altogether. And now all my siblings are laughing their guts out. They know me well.) My eldest jumped up there and got the stash, picking out the necessary Crunch Bar, fifteen little bags of M&Ms (is that enough, Mom? Um, yeah!), trying to figure out if we need some Butterfinger just to mix it up, etc. etc. Well, unbeknownst to me there was a cup of water next to this particular cupboard, which was next to my book. Ummmm, next to the library's book. I was just cleaning up when I noticed the book looked wet. Reeeeaaaalllyyyyy wet. Uh oh. I picked it up, dried it to the best of my ability, and shoved it into my over-stuffed bookcase to decompress into hopefully somewhat-flat pages again.

Do you think the library is going to understand this one? After all, it IS a book about how to deal with boys . . .

Interesting note: the Happy Birthday wrapping paper that was next to the book? Fine. Not a scratch. Not a drop. Weird. Or is it just the boy gene?

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