The A – Z of Raising Boys


Here is my guide on the A – Z of raising boys. I’m sure many of these will apply to girls too, but since I only own small ones of the male variety, here goes:

A is for Asking – lots and lots and lots of questions. And then some more. Just because, ok?

B is for Bottoms – you will see these a lot, because bottoms and the noises that they emit are hilariously funny.

B is also for Bathtime – it’s carnage. That is all.

C is for cooking – cooking with my boys is not something that happens very often. You can  find out why here.

D is for dummy – the great parenting divider! Both of mine had one, I have no regrets and they saved many a meltdown. In fact, they should do adult dummies. With little holes in the end for wine.

E is for Energy – boundless, endless, unbridled energy. They are on the go from morning til night and then some.

F is for fighting – of the play-variety. It’s a favourite pastime of theirs and no matter how much I try to instil the idea of ‘gentle play’, there is apparently nothing more fun than pretending to punch your brother in the face.

G is for guns – anything can be a gun and weapons are cool. Fact. I never encouraged this type of play, but it seems to be in-built. And we now have an impressive armoury in our house and I have to admit I am quite a dab-hand with a plastic sword.

H is for hide-and-seek – I always have to be the finder, except I’m not allowed to actually find them. I also have to pretend to be a witch whilst doing it. I have no idea why.

I is for ignored – totally ignored at the weekend. At the weekend it’s all about daddy. Don’t mind me boys, primary week-day carer and BIRTH GIVER. No, that’s fine, you both go and sit with daddy and I’ll eat breakfast on this side of the table BY MYSELF.

J is for jumping – boys seem to be in-built with a desire to jump. Off the sofa, off chairs, off each other – if they can climb it, they’ll jump from it.

K is for karate chop – there is no part for my body that hasn’t been the victim of a well-aimed karate chop. The kung fu maniacs.

L is for love – and how I never knew it was possible to love two little creatures so insanely, that I would quite literally lose a limb for them.

M is for meltdowns – the top 3 reasons for meltdowns to date have been 1. because I wouldn’t let Little Monkey go to bed wearing a tiara and wellies 2. because I found Big Monkey during a game of hide-and-seek (see point H above – I’ve since learnt my lesson) and 3. I flushed a poo down the toilet when I wasn’t supposed to. Who knew?

N is for naked – boys will get naked at any opportunity. Wherever I look there’s a bare bottom in the vicinity. Life is just better naked, apparently.

O is for open books – as loud and shouty as they are, they also wear their hearts on their sleeves and feel every emotion with intensity. I am never in any doubt as to how my boys are feeling – good, bad or ugly.

P is for poo – do it loud and be proud. The smellier the better. Always be sure to marvel at your toilet creation. Also great as an insult. You poo-head.

Q is for quiet – something I haven’t experienced since around April 2011.

R is for repetition – my poor darling boys were apparently born with selective hearing (as was my husband) and as such, I am forced to repeat myself numerous times in order to get a response to anything. Unless I yell “cake”.

S is for sense of humour – they find breaking wind, falling over and toilet humour totally hilarious. In fact as I write this one of them is giggling away and asking me to use his foot as a phone (little weirdo). But their laughter is infectious and I too now find myself sniggering at the odd bottom-burp.

T is for throwing – what is it about boys and their urge to lob whatever they have in their hands across the room? Apparently no amount of telling-off can curb this in-built reflex. On the plus side, I now have cat-like reflexes.

U is for underpants – the sight of my five-year-old wandering around in his little underpants is the cutest thing ever. Give it another 5 years and it probably won’t be so adorable as I’m tripping over dirty pants on the kitchen floor.

V is for volume control – or lack of it. Ok, that’s a little unfair. They have three levels of volume: loud, louder and loudest. Whether they’re shouting with glee or having a meltdown because I peeled the banana the wrong way (yes, this happened), you can hear them a mile away.

W is for why? – Why don’t animals wear shoes? Why can’t I swing like a monkey? Why don’t you have a willy? Why is the rain wet? The list is endless.

X is for X-ray – boys seem to throw themselves around with no fear or sense of danger and we have already had one X-ray for a broken collarbone. The first X-ray of many over the years, I’m sure.

Y is for yeehaa – when I hear this cry of pure abandonment, I know that someone is either jumping off something they shouldn’t or climbing something that will probably result in point ‘X’ above.

Z is for zest – these strange, play-fighting, bare-bottomed, little thrill seekers have a zest for life makes me wish I was 5 again, too. But right now, I’ll settle for a nap…

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