Talkin' Dirty

God sure got me good. He gave me two shiny, sweet smelling baby girls first. They wore beautiful dresses to school and ALWAYS had coordinating hair bows. I reveled in giving them teensie weensie manicures on their itty bitty hands. Life was peaches and cream.
I was excited about having Charlie; up for the challenge. I heard all of the cliches that compare boys to girls. I was not going to buy into those horrid stereotypes. I was, after all, Supermom.
At a really early age, (I'm talkin' fresh outta the hospital, people) I was amazed how sweaty Charlie's little feet were; sweaty AND stinky! My newborn son had smelly feet! Surely not, but oh, yes. Over, the next weeks I was amazed how much dirt would accumulate in his tiny fists and between his toes. I bathed this kid on a regular basis, and it wasn't like he was running any marathons. Dirty, dirty, dirty.
To really drive home the joke, God bestowed upon us a second little stinker. We hadn't seen anything yet! Patch, or Patchy-Poo, as he is commonly referred to, has been the end all be all of dirty, little boys. Picture this Rockwellesque painting: adoring family sitting, gazing at the newborn longingly when suddenly out of nowhere emanates a strong sulfuric odor slowly filling the room. One by one, family members tuck their noses in their shirts and exchange their loving glances to ones of horror. How could that smell come from such a tiny person!!!??? Patch's "teachers" at school quickly realized the ONLY way to feed him without ruining his clothes, was to strip him down to his diaper; even then, somehow he managed to soil clothes that were 10 feet away.
Boys are just like that, I am learning. They thrive in filth and stinkiness. I would love to say my husband is different, but the truth is that he is "just one of the boys." No matter how many toys, books or games they may have, at the end of the day nothing beats a puddle of water or a pile of leaves. The more "one with the filth" they can be the better. A truly successful day is one where they are able to turn their bath water several shades darker.
Despite the seemingly magnetic reaction boys(and men) have to all things gross, we members of grime-opposed gender still love them. Perhaps because of their "condition" we love them more because it gives us something to work on with them. There is a definite sense of accomplishment when you pluck one of these playful ogres out of the swamp and turn them into Prince Charming- even if only for a few hours!