When people find out you’re a parent of 3 boys they often have a small, sharp intake of breath usually followed up with one of the following responses;
“Oh. Were you hoping for a girl third time around?”
“Will you try for child number four to get a girl?”
“Did you secretly really want a girl?”
“God how do you cope? You must have your hands full”
or the best one I had when telling someone I was expecting a third boy was;
“Oh dear, I’m so, SO sorry it’s another boy” I replied in an overly jolly voice “We really don’t mind as long as he’s ok”
She didn’t make eye contact and continued with her pitying tone whilst shaking her head, “Oh it’s SUCH a shame you don’t have a daughter, I really am so very sorry.”
Good. God. Had someone died and just not told me??
What they actually didn’t tell me was that having all boys was total magic and that it would instantly fill my life with a daily obsession with bums, farts, willies…more bums and farts and willies…..and a whole load of poo.
While in the bath the other day Big T was telling a few jokes, these were the ‘Creme of the crop’….
Q. Why did the elephant stick a chopping board up his bum?
A. To stop his poo coming out.
Q. Why did the man cross the road?
A. To get to the poo shop.
Q. Why did the chicken jump really high?
A. So it could poo on the giraffe’s head.
I felt a slight pattern emerging. Yet surprisingly, other than including the word ‘poo’, the answers were somewhat unpredictable and I couldn’t see them coming… That’s what having boys does, keeps you on your toes.
Living. On. The. Edge.