A Penis Should be Required

Me and My Main Man
photo credits to Jami Coss Photography

  I don't know what he is telling me. I concentrate on every syllable he is trying to rush out of his mouth in panic, but it is not computing. Finally, in frustration he drops his pants and shouts, "IT hurts!" I look at what he is pointing to and am befuddled, male anatomy is not as straight forward as you would think (pun intended). I see nothing worth alarming EMT help and tell him that if it hurt in the morning I would call his dad to come look at it.
  Just a few days ago I couldn't, for the love of all things holy, get the can opener to go all the way around the top of a can. In my estrogen fueled frustration I took the can piercer end and let into to the top of the can. Finally ripping it open and spooning out the diced tomatoes. I felt accomplished and exhausted. My upper body could use some work.
Can opened, BAM!!

   Clearly, a penis should be required when dealing with some issues that I  deal with everyday. Having no brothers, I got quite the crash course when I had my son. His natural curiosity and ability to shoot invisible zombies has made this mama cringe. My inability to open tightened bottle caps and empathize for the pain inflicted on my son's nuts being kicked has led to several sodas going flat and "walk it offs"being said. My poor son.
    He is the only boy and is sandwiched between two sisters, needless to say, when they want to play dress up he doesn't stand a chance. He has been garbed in several pageant dresses and attended many tea parties. He laughs and then asks if he can bring his gun to the tea party to shoot the bad guys. When the girls leave him alone, he'll grab his truck box and line them up to race, or take his tractors outside to play in the dirt. Nothing prepared me for the amount of jeans he would go through just from him playing trucks and tractors.
   As if his situation couldn't get anymore dire, I'm teaching him to be a gentleman. He is not taking to this new development very well. He has to let the girls go first, be served first, help his sisters, and hold the door open. Needless to say it gets pretty feisty when he is perturbed at a sister but for the most part he does just fine. Last week in a fit of frustration he cried, "Why do I have to be a gentleman?!"
   I calmly took my poor boy's hand and said, "Because I love you so much, I want you to be the best kind of man. Gentlemen are respectful and kind and that is exactly who you are growing up to be." That seemed to satisfy him.

photo credits to Jami Coss Photography

    I may not have a penis or a vast amount of knowledge on trucks and tractors or be able to understand his need to shoot everything in sight, but my heart is full when I look at him. His crystal blue eyes and messy red hair have my heart. I watch him hold the door without me asking and he helps his youngest sister to the car, and my eyes swell with tears, so proud of my young man. I am at a total loss at some things but all in all I couldn't ask for a better gentleman.

To his future wife... you're welcome.


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