Outnumbered

It is becoming increasingly obvious that I am outnumbered, a single XX chromosome in a sea of XY chromosomes. Not only are my babies getting bigger, but they are exhibiting more of their inherent boyness with each passing day.

Evidence of the first part:

This is the curtain rod in my living room, held in place by one of those anchors that pops open like an umbrella after you shove it through the hole.

Note the damage to the drywall. That's about a seven inch divot. Despite these industrial-strength anchors, the boys have still managed to pull the curtains half off the wall. Would this happen with girls? I suspect not.

Evidence of the second part:

Simon and I played outside today. After watching for a while, I eventually had to join in to try for myself the game that kept him occupied for the best part of an hour: scrounge around the side of the house for fallen icicles, impressive in size from the mid-week thaw, and smash them to smithereens on the bricks. We must have pulverized 20 lbs of ice. I can't believe it kept him engaged for as long as it did, but the very best part was the evil giggle that burbled from him every single time he smashed a hunk of ice to bits. Wanton destruction not only sanctioned by but actually accompanied by Mommy - he was in heaven.

Evidence of the third part:

As I type this, I'm curled up on the sofa while Beloved and Tristan are a few feet away, playing the Cars video game on the Xbox console Beloved just rented from the video store.


They've completely forgotten I'm here, father and son bonding over a video game. Tristan, not even five years old, has already beaten his father in at least one race. He holds the game controller like he was born with it in his hand.

I have this sneaking suspicion this is only the beginning...