Hide your crazy - Aug. 20

I’ve only experienced the first 10 years of raising boys, but I’ve already started putting together a handy guidebook. Let’s look at our first few points.

1)      Boys are born packing heat. They’re trigger happy and will get you every time. You might as well be sounding the trumpets of war every time you take off a diaper. So learn to wipe ‘em up and re-diaper in two seconds flat because as soon as you let your guard down, as that cute little face draws you in for a quick kiss, pew pew (gun sound effects), right in the mouth. However, when they come of potty training age, it is fun to stand at attention and nobly proclaim, “I pray your draw is swift and your aim is true.”

2)      Check your gag reflex at the door. Once they figure out how diapers work, they don’t hesitate to free themselves. “Oh it’s 5:28 a.m.? Shall I paint a picture for mother, to show her my gratitude and undying love? Yes, yes I shall! Oh, how I wish I could retrieve thine crayons and canvas. Whatever shall I do now? Hark! ‘Tis a self-made, coal-like yet pliable treasure abiding in thine diaper!! Who needs a canvas when you have walls?” You get used to the smell after a few hours of scrubbing poo off of walls, carpet, all the books, crannies, and spindles of a crib and out of hair. Also, farts have always been and always will be funny. So get over it. But mommas don’t toot. That would just be disgusting.

3)      “Safety” is a loose term meant to be redefined for each situation. “Is it safe for him to pet that cat?” Hey, cats are a lot like girls. It’s good to learn how to deal with their erratic emotions from an early age. “Is it safe to eat that pasta off of the floor?” Well, are you at home, in a restaurant or a back alley? “Is it safe for him to play tackle football?” Are you raising a boy or a sissy?? Just kidding! My boys haven’t achieved more than a scraped knee from tackle football, yet Carter broke his arm in two places from jumping off a bed, and Hunter had to have emergency reconstructive surgery for ripping his intestines open while riding a bicycle. What is a safe age for a pocket knife? What is a safe age for a BB gun? And that brings me to…

4)      You may often find yourself wondering “Am I raising a serial killer?” After my husband and I agreed our kids could handle the responsibility, I named every rule I could think of. “Don’t shoot towards a person, a house, any building, any of the dogs, horses, cows, cars, bikes, toys, ATVs, farm equipment or hay bales. Don’t shoot close enough to a tree or target for it to ricochet, make sure no one is going to run across your aimed gun before you shoot.” You know, the 999 basic rules. I nagged them to death about the rules every time they asked to take them outside.

Out of three kids with BB guns, they followed the rules fairly decent and got punished when they broke them. But when it was brought to my attention that my kids had apparently became sharp-shootin’ snipers with those BB guns and they had brought proof to school… Yes, my 8-year-old twin boys, and my 7-year-old girl had EACH brought a dead bird...in their backpacks. To school... I was mortified. When we got home, my eyes were opened to their target practice. There were over 40 dead birds littered throughout my front yard. Apparently I had not made enough rules.

Take note that these are the same kids that bawl their little eyes out on “Homeward Bound,” “Hildago,” “Old Yeller” and “Where the Red Fern Grows.” Don’t even speak of “All Dogs Go To Heaven” or “Lion King” in their presence. They’re like sprinkler systems.

I think the moral of the story is to let a child be who God made them to be. You can’t tame a sense of adventure with a whooping. You can only teach it how to hide the evidence better. Teach them the Bible, get them checked for mental retardation if you have any concerns and pray earnestly for God’s protection over them. And our sanity.