Girl vs. Boy

Disclaimer: Before you declare us totally politically incorrect, stereotypical, and full of disgusting overgeneralizations, note that the following girl vs. boy situations are based on two real people: Bethany as a young girl, and Luke this week. So sure, sure, they are not representative of every girl and every boy, but they are true to Bethany, and true to Luke; so read on, shed political correctness for just a moment, refuse the urge to over-analyze, and enjoy.

Big tub full of clothes sits in the living room.
Girl: "Let's play dress-up! You be Pam. I'll be Cindy."
Boy: Without words, hops in the tub, pretends to drive it, makes loud train sounds, then tells Mom it's a "choo choo."

Eating dinner, pull a carrot shaving out of the salad.
Girl: "It's a curly, long, orange carrot!"
Boy: Produces high-volume airplane sounds as he makes the carrot airplane fly around his head.

Infant brother passes gas.
Girl: "Gross!"
Boy: Shouts out, "TOOT!" then gives a hearty laugh of delight.

Worm wriggles helplessly on sidewalk due to rain.
Girl: "Mom, I feel so sad for that worm. I hope no one squishes it!"
Boy: Without a word, lifts up his boot-covered foot and smashes it.

Mom changing baby brother's poopy diaper.
Girl: "Yuck."
Boy: "See!" Gets approval to inspect the diaper and then lets out a jolly laugh.

Bracelet: string of pink pearls.
Girl: "Pretty!"
Boy: "BALLS!"

Mother nursing baby brother, belly exposed.
Girl: Ignores the belly.
Boy: "RAMP!" and moves his hand up and down his mom's tummy like it's a car ramp.

Nearby squirrel.
Girl: Searches for food to feed it and make it come closer.
Boy: Sprints toward it, yelling caveman sounds.

Baby brother's hand tightly closed in a fist.
Girl: "Look, Mom! His hand is so cute! It's a little ball!"
Boy: Says in a deep voice, "WORKMAN," and tries with all his might to pry open the fingers. Successfully opens baby fist and then declares himself a "loader" (tractor).

Bethany is now really outnumbered for most of her life and is getting a kick out of how very different her little Luke is from how she was as a child. And maybe he's a different creature than most girls, too, not just different than his mama: He was trying to impress school-aged girls at the park the other day, and when his fearless jumps off the ledge and sophisticated spinning-in-the-sand tricks failed to get their attention, he proudly strutted their way toting a huge yellow dump truck to show off. For some reason, they were unimpressed; and he looked at his mama totally bewildered: Who wouldn't be impressed by his dump truck? We'll have to give him some lessons on how to win a girl. (Put the dump trucks away. Bring out that string of balls... oops, I mean... pearls.)


Here's The Boy himself, ready for life's next adventure. (Must wear his backpack, his pilot hat, and his airplane gloves from Ya-Ya, of course.)


This picture says much better than words can precisely why it takes a while to get out of the house in the morning.


The Armstrong Brothers in a moment of typicality. Luke can't keep his hands off the guy.


(Zeke loves it.)


Zeke is still practicing his fencing pose, and that furrowed brow ain't relaxin'.


Ahem, ahem, Son, but why are you still awake? Richie walked Zeke outside from 9 to 10 PM, and came back with what Bethany hoped was a fast-asleep boy. (Consolation prize: He has started sleeping five-hour stretches at night, and really, is much much less fussy these days.)


Last weekend we got to do seven loads of laundry. (With much thanks to Bethany's parents, whose home has turned into our laundromat.) Kids have no reason to think chores aren't fun, so seven piles of laundry in our living room was heaven. Mountains to climb! An obstacle course to run the bus around! What fun!


More weekend action. Luke had to get out his tools to help Daddy fix our kitchen table.


Last weekend held more fun besides seven loads of laundry and table fixing. We had noticed that our stroller, parked on our patio, had been munched on by something. There was a big chewed-out hole in it. So Richie went out to investigate. Sure enough, while we were staying the three weeks at Bethany's parents' house, squirrels had decided we had a wonderful spot to nest.


So they nested. And tore things up. And destroyed things. And pooped everywhere. And even brought up corn cobs to warm up their nest. Bethany thought it was one of the most disgusting things ever. Richie got out the rubber gloves and cleaned it all up, half disgusted and half fascinated. Luke was 100% fascinated, and now gets to indulge his chasing-squirrels-with-loud-caveman-voice urges as much as he wants. No longer will we teach him to be nice to the squirrels. (At least not the ones on our patio.)


Now for some Zeke action. If you can even find him, that is.


Daddy comes home from work, and his first item of business is to eke out grins from his littlest man.


Not in the mood to grin, thank you very much. (But boy did he look cute anyway. Hat and slippers recycled from Luke, but so fun to have new clothes, too! This is a soft, cozy outfit from Beth, Nick, and Timothy, who really have a knack for warming up our boys.)


We've broken out that Bjorn again, and--clearly--Zeke is thrilled.


This week we were treated with a lot of hang-out time with Shealyn, now that all of us are over our colds. She and Luke tore up the house while Kelly hung out with Zeke and Bethany lounged. Perfect.


Each morning when Bethany gets dressed, Luke begs her to wear her red t-shirt. It is her basketball jersey from sixth-grade city-league basketball. This particular morning, she honored his request, but when he saw it on her, he immediately shouted, "NO DA DUM! DUCK!" He wanted to wear the basketball shirt. Why of course.


New trick: sitting on a basketball. Luke thinks it is a really, really fancy trick.


Here's Zeke again, our little heartwarmer.


Zzzz.


Squirrel poop cleaned up, we now have a reorganized, scrubbed-down patio; and Luke has rediscovered his too-big tricycle. He sits on the bar (ouch) and waddles along--and loves it.


Showing off his bell-ringing skills.


Dream big, Son, dream big.


Zeke sports a too-cute sock-monkey onesie from Haley, while Luke holds Zeke's hand and performs a spectacle with his legs.


When Luke asks to touch Zeke, we normally give him permission; what he usually means is that he wants permission to rub his head all over Zeke's face (gently). That's his best way of showing affection. And it is adorable. (Though we're glad he doesn't do it to us.)


Flying away!


And we'll close with a set of Zeke shots from last weekend. Our little Zeke boy is getting balder and squishier by the day. We are in love.




A full-body shot, in case you wanted to see Zeke in all his glorious chub.


Richie got lots of smiles and interaction out of Zeke last night, and Richie commented: "I feel like I met Zeke tonight." It is so neat when a baby comes alive and wakes up to all the people who love him. Zeke is now full of smiles and is trying to talk. Talking takes all of his strength, and he wiggles his mouth around and flails his tongue here and there, trying to make a sound; occasionally, he will get an "OO" or an "OW" out, and it is the cutest noise in the whole world.


Side note about Zeke's smiles: Last night Zeke was adoring his daddy, staring and grinning; but when his mommy came close and started talking, he turned toward his mama and grinned. Enough to melt her heart into a puddle.


This heart-in-a-puddle mama must admit, she really enjoys this pre-dump-truck stage. (Nevertheless, twice a day she hauls her pre-dump-truck lovebug baby along with his older brother to see the nearby construction site where there are loaders, cranes, and backhoes; Luke is the official construction supervisor, twice daily noting building progress, tool use, and tractor movement.)

And so our life with The Armstrong Brothers continues...