No, ladies. I don’t mean like a pool boy, although that isn’t a bad idea. And I’m not talking about big things for big guys like motorcycles and chainsaws.
I’m talking about toys made for little boys. I don’t get them.
I’m not a girly-girl and I’m actually really happy that I have two boys. Girls terrify me. Both the little ones and their love of pink and ponytails, and the teenage kind with their hormones and drama. I didn’t want girls. Every time we had an ultrasound during both pregnancies, I asked forced the technician to double-check that she could see an important little part waving to say “hello” and reassure me that I was going to give birth to a little testosterone monster.
But I digress…back to toys.
Because I am a girl, I understand girl toys.
- Stuffed animals. Check. Cute, cuddly and like pretend pets. Got it.
- Barbie. Check. Fashionable. Great shoes. Independent enough to keep Ken around as her boy toy. Got it.
- Princess dresses and tiaras. Check. We’re all a princess, at least in our mind, right? Got it.
- Baby dolls. Check. Okay, so there really isn’t a way to prepare for an actual baby with all the crying and poop. But okay. I still get it.
Boy toys, though, come with all kinds of parts and pieces that I don’t get. Especially when they are separated from all of the other parts that came with the toy. See Exhibit A.
Exhibit A
Do you have ANY idea what those things are?! Neither do I. These are a few random toy bits that I picked up after a raucous play hour a couple of days ago. I try to keep the toys somewhat organized…cars and trucks in one basket, superheroes in another, animals and animal-related things in another, etc. I have NO IDEA where to put these things. None. So they get tossed in a left-over basket.
Big A will inevitably come up to me and say something like “Mom, do you know where my Batman shooter thing is?” or “Mom, I can’t find my motorcycle fire-ma-jig.”
“You’re wha…?” I reply.
Yep. I sure am happy I have boys.
