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snips and snails and puppy dog tails… March 18, 2009

Posted by jonesgurl in all about change, brown boy pride, children, my ramblings....
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remember this nursery rhyme…

What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails, and puppy-dogs’ tails,
That’s what little boys are made of.
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice, and everything nice,
That’s what little girls are made of.

yes, i now believe that’s what little boys are made of – snips, snails and puppy dog tails.

i was walking myles (my five year old) home from school.  as the parents picked up their student and the children said good bye, myles yells out to one of the little girls – “bye, i’m gonna marry you”! i’m thinking…huh, what?  no, not yet!!! no girls!!! there will be plenty of time for that…like in 20 years when he’s all done with college or something like that.

i look at him and laugh a little.  then i gave him a second look.  i laughed again because he thought he was “big boy” cool (chasing girls and such), not even realizing he was walking around with his hat on inside out while trying to woo a woman.  

 moving along, we unlocked his bike, he hopped on and began to ride…in the mud, dirt, rocks, bugs and such.  no problem right? this is just something that little kids do.  though it’s gross, you’ve gotta let them have fun. 

on the way home he and a classmate of his played for a little bit before we head out on our journey home.  so they’re running and playing and such.  all of a sudden his little friend falls to the ground and scrapes her knee (hole in the pants and all).  like a typical kid she cries a bit and gets a hug from her mom.  normally, myles would be very concerned and give a quick comforting hug.  no. not this time. he looked at her to make sure she was okay and then when she kept whimpering a bit he picked up his rock from the ground, took off running and said, “oh please”.  where’s the compassion that he used to have?  sigh.  it’s official!  he’s got the “i don’t care” man in him. he is a boy.

and then, all the way he rode through the dirt, mud, mud, mud and more mud.

sigh.  that’s my boy and i’ve gotta get used to it.  mud, dirt, bugs, scraped up knees, ripped up pants, and that i don’t give a care attitude.

mr. alien hands

my-boy

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