Boys are Yucky

Just to be clear before I start, my son (whose name is Ryan) is just as much my whole world as my daughters are, but boys are gross ya’ll.  For anyone who has a son, I am guessing you already see where I am going with this and probably have many many stories of your own.  For those that don’t, sit back and read about what you are missing.  And, for those that happen to be expecting a boy…..LOL…..you might want to stop reading now so you don’t scare the crap out of yourself before the storm hits.

First off, boys seem to have some sort of magnetic sensor that gravitates them towards anything disgusting.  We are unable to go anywhere without my son finding some gem of foulness that he insists is so cool and special to him that he has to bring it home.  He is twelve and over the years, we have had random antlers, rocks, bones, unidentifiable organisms, rusty pieces of metal, and a barrage of other “interesting” things.  In most cases, these things don’t make it past the garage and into the house because eeeewwwwww.  However, there have also been the many occasions that I had the great joy of finding these treasures in my son’s pockets when doing his laundry.  It’s an adventure and potential chance of tetanus every time I dare to reach my hand into his pockets.  I use my dictator voice with my children as well as my adult child (husband) when it comes to cleaning out their pockets for laundry and so in theory there should never be anything in their pockets for me to find.  That’s a cute little thought but so far from reality as I have already illustrated.  Just in the past week, I have found a pencil, 3 inch long screw, wrapper to something, and a dime in my son’s pockets.  My favorites are always the slimy melted candy or other disgusting thing that mushes the pocket to itself and requires a pressure washer or chisel for pre-wash removal.

We picked apples from our orchard and back field this past weekend and Ryan found his most recent must have.  A tree out back had giant chunks of furry moss on it.  Ryan pulled off a piece the size of Texas and declared that he needed to bring it in to examine under his sister’s microscope.  What’s better…it came with a nasty little centipede and who knows what other creepies living in it.  VETO…..no freaking way Ryan.  You are not bringing that in the house.  However, I admire his desire for learning, so this is where a compromise came into play.  He was allowed to break off a roughly quarter sized piece minus said centipede for microscope inspection.  I told him that he was to place it in a baggy as soon as it entered the house since he wasn’t going to have time to examine it that night.  Well, we of course have to keep the specimen fresh I guess so he placed it in a baggy with a bunch of water. And so, since Sunday I have had a miniature swamp in a ziplock bag on my kitchen table.  If you’d like your very own, especially for those of you without the delightful scent of boy in your home, I am sure my son would be happy to oblige.

I will say that while living with a boy is a sometimes unwelcome invitation to chaos, it is magical to see his desire to discover new things and his sense of adventure.  He is for sure my endless source of useless knowledge and random facts, but he keeps things exciting because you just never know what he will inform you of next.  We have lovingly nicknamed him “Random Ryan” and anyone who knows him fully understands why.  My hope on the days that I cautiously stick my hand into one of his pockets of fun is that it could be the spark to some great discovery some day.  Let’s remember that the men who have cured terrible diseases were once just stinky little, bug collecting boys:)