No Boys Allowed

I informed Dick yesterday that we would not be “trying” for a boy ever. We will probably have another child, but I will be doing my best to ensure that it is a girl (not that effort in this vein would seem necessary). This realization that I have no desire for a boy child came about as I was reminded of two univeral truths about boys that I knew in my youth but had somehow forgotten in the past 9 years of bliss:

Boys are gross.

Boys are mean.

I knew that boys were gross when Jim Leavitz exposed himself to me on the playground at La Paloma Elementary School. (This memory was more disturbing to me as a teenager than it is now. As a mother of a kindergartener, I can see little Jimmie as being curious and open, but, still, gross). I knew that boys were mean when Gavin and Rory teased me on the school bus and poured Pepsi in my hair (ok, so I told them to go to hell and they forever after taunted me with “go to heaven, Jane”).

Last week I took Susan and Spot to Mother Goose storytime at the library. A four year old boy (the age range is infants-three, so obviously the mother was pretty delinquent as well; maybe mothers of boys are affected while carrying male fetuses?) yanked on the arm of a wobbly (female) toddler and pulled until she fell and hit her head on a wooden easel with a loud crack. 30 horrified parents gasped, and the (yep, delinquent) mother inadequately reprimanded the boy.

For 18 hours this weekend we babysat the 9, 6, and 4 year old boys of a family in our branch whose mother needed surgery. These boys are very nice and sensitive and caused no tears or bruises. We had a hard time convincing Sally and Susan not to sleep on the living room floor with them. But, these boys are gross.

My goodness, I had been aware before that Dick is an exemplary male when it comes to toilet use (despite his insistence that shaking is as good as wiping–not so), but apparently he is the only male on the planet with good aim. I guess we could take the risk that a son of his would inherit his superior ability, but I don’t know if I want to risk 18 years of servility in the bathroom on this point.

Now, my girls are messy eaters, and they know how to get really dirty, really fast outside, but they love taking baths and love snuggling their baby sister. Let’s hear it for girls!