| Posted in:Family

 My Main Man

Like most of his gender, my five year old son is a simple creature.

He says what he means, does what he wants, and really, all he wants is for me to make him a salami and tomato sandwich and then leave him alone. He is smart, inventive and curious. I have seen him display unlimited patience when building a Bakugan Lego Thunderdome from plastic berry baskets and packing tape, yet he can blow up like an egg in the microwave if both of his legs go through one hole of his underwear.

He will likely end up being some sort of explosives engineer. Or a felon. Jury’s still out.

He appreciates and responds well to a streamlined schedule: Eat, sleep, play, destroy, aggravate, enchant, repeat.

He knows what he likes, knows what he doesn’t and couldn’t care less if your view differs. He can be difficult, bewitching, charming, offer stinging criticism, appear emotionally detached and be overtly affectionate. At the same time. I have no idea where he gets it from.

 My Main Man

"I did NOT eat the powdered donuts for dinner..."

 He loves to wear costumes, do wheelies on his two wheel bike and steal my kitchen utensils. Today on his daily bike ride he wore his glow in the dark skeleton costume, a flame-stickered bike helmet, and carried both a lime reamer and a garlic press in his pocket. The garlic press had been missing for days, and was later returned to the drawer without comment, but smelled oddly of garden soil and worm intestine.

He tells me he loves me and that I am his “best friend” countless times every day, and loves it when I read to him from my history textbook. That boy knows more about the Russian Revolution, The Grand Exchange, or the King’s Great Matter than many of my classmates. Especially that weird guy who wears his pajamas and a floor length black oilcloth duster to class.

When it comes to his wardrobe, I’ve stopped offering explanations as to his appearance. Luckily, his teachers are kind and understanding, and find it “charming” that he wants to wear his John Deere T-shirt, camouflage cargo pants and assorted bits of various costumes from Halloween’s past 5 days a week. My daughter needs a different pair of jeans for every day of the month. My son needs two pairs of pants, total. He’d be happy with one, but by bribing him with orange Tic Tacs I was able to get him to agree to an extra pair for when the first are crusted with pancake syrup, play dough and hamster poop.

I was hoping that Santa would deliver some new clothes for him at Christmas, but so far his only request is “a long, really sharp stick with some kind of propeller thingy on the end to chop stuff up.”

I am asking Santa for a military grade triage first aid kid and a cask of tequila.

They say that there is a special place in heaven for mothers of sons.

The vast majority of days, I love earning  my wings.

 My Main Man

The current fave, especially for family meals out. And appointments.

  • http://rakitt@cogeco.ca Sheri

    Oh Jeni, boys are so funny aren’t they?? It amazes me how they can make me feel so annoyed and proud all at the same time. I truly believe there is a special place for mothers of boys. There better be, dammit!

  • http://www.smacksy.com Lisa Rae @ smacksy

    This is a sweet, sweet love letter.

    I love boys.

  • Love

    Your five year old son and mine should never meet. For North American security. And so they both have eyes when they’re six.

    It amazes me everyday how much violence he can imagine and the glee he gets from doing so. I just got a picture of a pumpkin holding a pitchfork in one hand and an explosion in the other with random fires in the background. At the top it says, “I love you Mom”. So cute.

  • http://zhamid.blogspot.com Why My Hair Dont Grow No More

    Oh boy. You just described my two year old. The only difference is that my two year old wets his pants (he’s otherwise potty-trained, but often can’t be bothered) … goes into his room … takes off his soiled pants and hides them … and changes pants. He later denies anything happened (“you were not wear shorts this morning”. “Yes I was”).

  • http://www.tiffany-ontheverge.blogspot.com Tiffany

    that was truly a gorgeous post. i really almost cried.

  • http://meecheandjoe.blogspot.com/ Joe

    Boys and violence go hand in hand. I started off with a Zippo lighter when I was about 11. I then moved on to small fire crackers, then M 80s, and by the time I was 13, was somehow in the posession of quarter-sticks of dynamite. I feel like I could have been your son’s second best friend. After his mom, of course.

  • http://www.hollisramblings.blogspot.com Holli

    Great familiar post about boys! I’ve had two – with completely different personalities, and yours sounds like my youngest to a tee!

    Your little guy is adorable and probably lucky for it – this is how they get away with so much!

    Great, well written post :)

  • http://cookingdunkinstyle.blogspot.com Cheryl

    Haha damn cute kid! I do not KNOW how my mother in law survived with 3 of em each one year apart, my husband was the baby thank god!

  • http://whoa-mumma.blogspot.com Alex

    Cute kid…I have one myself (poor boy has 3 sisters) so I have to encourage the destruction so that he doesn’t end up wearing a skirt when he grows up.

    Pity he only wears one pair of pants (grotty black jeans). My husband wants to burn them.

  • http://www.makeanote.typepad.com Kristin

    It’s good to know what I have to look forward to. My three year old son is a tornado. He alternates between wanting to spin around like a princess and race like Lightening McQueen. We haven’t reached the blow up things / violent stage yet, but I sense that it is coming. Great post!

  • http://www.erthsongs.blogspot.com Robin

    Oh what a love!! I could just kiss his dirty little face (and in doing so be inoculated from every disease known to man kind!!).

    My now 13 year old used to play with bones when he was 2 or 3. Oh he had toys, but, the bones the dogs drug up were far more entertaining. It never really bothered me. I used to comfort myself in thinking that this was basic human fun at its finest. And I would grin from ear to see his pudgy little hand full of whatever-animal’s rib bones. Sigh. Where do those days go?

    Chin up sista. Something tells me you’ve got a girlie-girl daughter with stories of her own.

  • http://whymomwhy.blogspot.com/ Susan

    I would wear that skeleton ensemble 365 if I thought I could get away with it with as much class as this little guy……

  • http://www.inthemeshbags.com ShaMoo

    LOL, you’ve captured the essence that is boys, that’s for sure; great post! I have two myself (nearly 7 and 3.5 years old) and let me tell you, I praised the estrogen gods when the u/s tech told me that my third was to be a girl!

  • http://www.bluegategardens.blogspot.com LeSan

    Oh Jeni I am completely madly in love with your son! Lisa Rae is right this is a beautiful “love letter.” And I did cry. I miss my son. The grown up guy is fantastic but I miss the little version. Sheesh! now I’m all weepy and stuff. sniffff

  • http://thebrokins.com Jasmine

    he is just a handsome little thing! isn’t he!

  • http://www.anabsolutelackof.blogspot.com Yoj

    I love when you write about your kids. :)

    Special place for us mom’s of boys, indeed. Someone’s gotta regulate and pass out secret hugs when needed.

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