Saturday, February 7, 2015

Frosty the Snowman

It's no secret that I learn more every day in regards to what it takes to be a boy mom. In most cases, I still don't "get it," but rather go along with it.

For example: a little boy's need to build things just to knock them over.

We'll spend a half hour building a beautiful "house" (I prefer to pretend it's a castle.) And as soon as the final block is in place, Henry's happy to make it come crashing down.

And the same goes for William. If anything gets to be half his height or above within his line of vision, he turns into Babyzilla. He'll come crashing into whatever it is, roars included.

And trust me I didn't teach them this. If I spend my morning creating something in the play room, ideally it would last at least until dinner.

Take today for example. Henry and Mark went out to play in the snow. And created this little cutie:

I mean he is adorable, right?? Henry named him Frosty, and I was already excited for him to hang out on our property for a few weeks. I loved this snowman. (I remember when I was young building snowmen with my brothers and going inside to ask my mom for the carrot, and something for the eyes. So it was so sweet when Henry came into today asking for a "carrot nose, eyes, mouth and hat, pwease. For Frosty.") So about three seconds after Frosty is complete I hear:

"Otay. Now let's knock him over!"

Which turned out to be more difficult than Henry thought.

That's about as "full speed" as Henry gets with that much gear on, and giant boots in a foot of snow. And so instead? We'll just eat his carrot nose.


And take a bite of his... ribs?


And leave the hard work to Daddy. I keep forgetting that dads are still 50% little boy on the inside. And  Mark totally gets my boys when I  clearly do not.

 
RIP Frosty.


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