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Boys are Made of Snips, Snails, and Puppy Dog Tails

November 21, 2015 by Allie

My great-grandmother used to say that Boys are Made of Snips, Snails, and Puppy Dog Tails.

Anyone who knows my youngest boy knows that not only is he my most lovey dovey boy who doesn’t mind seeking out hugs and affection from Mom, but that he is also my most mischievous child always seeking ways to cure his curiosity bug (I pretty much think that’s impossible). Add to his curious nature and mischievous ways hardheadedness and I’ve got one little boy that always keeps me on my toes.

Always.

After all, boys are made of snips, snails, and puppy dog tails.

For instance, here is my attempt to get him to smile for my camera:

Major smile fail.
Super goofy win.
Boy 1. Mom 0.

As you can see, we were having a FUN day at the lake in early fall here in Texas. The 100 degree temps had finally broken and we decided to spend the day at a local lake since it was a cool 90-something outside. As you can guess, this momma here was not surprised when my youngest began combing the lake shore for various items.

Like fish skeletons.

Clam guts that he decided we should somehow fish with.

And floating dead fish (that’s one of his older brothers helping him).

Boy 2. Mom 0.

As you can see, I am getting used to this kid and his all boy ways. My husband is just proud. But you know what we’re not sure we should be proud of with this boy? The fact that he likes to catch these at home:

That’s right my friends–the mysterious bugs that my youngest caught in food containers of varying sizes?

Honey bees. About twenty of them. And he won’t stop catching them.

He says he wants to be a beekeeper when he grows up.

I guess we can be proud of him for figuring out his future career so early.

Boys: Prepare for the Unexpected

May 2, 2012 by Allie

The one thing that every mother of boys should know is this: Prepare for the unexpected.

Like why is there blood on my kitchen floor?

And in the grass?

Apparently he also did this at school to his teacher on Monday during recess. He’s been getting a lot of bloody noses lately. But so far, nothing quite like what happened last year:

Also I think I’m emailing his teacher this post. That boy is gonna kill me.

I’m Just Lucky He Wasn’t Playing with Poop

April 10, 2012 by Allie

Last night I fought with one really dirty little boy to go take a bath.

This morning I awoke to this:

And this:

Which was the aftermath of mud volcanoes infused with baking soda and vinegar.

When school started last August I went through my kids’ stuff and started throwing toys away, mostly because they weren’t putting them away and were throwing them out their window. When Christmas came around we got our kids some new toys but were very conservative in the amount we bought. What I didn’t realize at the time was that none of the toys we bought would even compare to dirt + water = MUD.

For instance:

Oh and this:

Trust me that face was enough to make the grumpy old man who walks his white dog every day past my house stop and ask my youngest what kind of sculptures he was making.

Mud-formers: Robots in Mud-Pies.

(I’m just lucky they weren’t Poop-formers.)

My Youngest Brought Home Another Conduct Form

April 5, 2012 by Allie

I used to think I understood when my great-grandma Dolly would tell my mother that my twin brother was hard-headed. What I found out when I became a mother to my youngest is really what “hard-headedness” means.

Case in point: the image above.

But I guess if bringing a pocketfull of rolly-pollies to school is the worst he’s gonna ever do (at school anyway), then I’ve got it good.

Wait there was that one time he knocked his desk over because he was fiddling around with something in it.

Then the time he was crawling around on his hands and knees and barking like a dog.

Can’t forget about that other time in the bathroom he was sticking his hand in the toilet and swishing it around.

Or the time he thought it was a good idea to pick his boogers in front of the entire class.

Now I’ve got to teach him to quit blaming everything on “Zacya.”

Pretty much I have no idea what I’m dealing with.

My Youngest Points with His Middle Finger Anyway

January 10, 2012 by Allie

How appropriate. My youngest son points with his middle finger.

You know, how appropriate that the one child of mine who I’ve been trying to teach to point with his index finger since he was very little since he likes to use his offending finger instead is also the one kid whose cub scout Christmas ornament I broke while putting away Christmas decorations. (Dear sixth grade teacher, how’s that for a run-on sentence?)

(his middle finger at the Sweetwater, Texas Rattlesnake Round Up)

Like, I was holding it because I fixing to paint the hair brown and paint a “1” over a “2” on the pack number patch and it slipped out of my hand and crashed on the floor. I looked everywhere for the index finger–to no avail.

So, like I asked on Facebook, do I just keep it the way it is in remembrance of the child of mine that points with his middle finger anyhow or do I fix it? I ain’t throwing it away seeing as the ornament costs $8 to replace.

UPDATE: This post was originally published in 2012. I left the middle finger the way it was.