It's not hard for me to understand my strong desire to birth boys over girls. All I have to do is look back into my childhood and ask myself "Would I like me as a teenager?" And the answer would be a resounding "NO". I wasn't a bad kid. I wasn't a trouble maker and I didn't disrespect (well, no more than your average teenager). Nope, I wasn't any of those things. My problem? I was simply a girl. An emotional, dramatic, overly sensitive girl. And maybe as I've gotten older and my patience thinner, I realize that a teenage me and a short fuse wouldn't be the best match.
Of course, all that may change as soon as my boys become teenagers. I hear all the stories of my guy friends and the wild and insanely irresponsible things they did as teenagers and it scares the hell out of me. I have many years before I have to kick my boys' asses for being irresponsible or lazy or just plain stupid. For now, I will enjoy the super hero world my house has become. A layer of secret passageways and ruthless villains. Batman's cave and Spiderman's web. I will watch as my two little heroes take back control of the house from the evil that hides between the sofa cushions and I will have the privilege of joining in their crusade as BatGirl or WonderWoman. I will respect all action figures that blanket my floors because I know they are protecting me.
I agree that little girls are amazing and sweet and precious and all that is good and sugary. And I know that I would love my child, girl or boy. But there is something about my two boys that is unexplainable. Maybe it is my lifelong passion of being a mother to boys. Maybe it is my relief that the world was not graced with another teenage me. Or maybe, just maybe something amazing is going on right now. The universe possibly knew that I would need a couple of pint-sized heroes in my life right at this moment.
40 of 365: A hero comes in many shapes and sizes....
Good Night All!
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