There is too much "boyness" going on in my household. I am severly outnumbered. Okay, there is only one more male here, but still.
First, what is it with guys not being able to find anything unless it smacks them in the face? When Darius goes looking for something, he literally stands in the middle of the room and then looks up at the walls and ceiling. Last time I checked, buddy, your stuff is always on the floor. And it's not just Darius. Neville is constantly putting something down in some random spot and then getting mad at me when I "move" it. But we know that the reality isn't that I moved it; he just can't remember the damn random spot where he set it down.
And the bathroom talk is at an all time here. I am so sick of hearing about who has to poop, how long they pooped, or the size & color of the poop. I HAVE NO INTEREST IN YOUR POOP.
Futhermore, I am so sick of wiping the butt of a child who is fully capable of wiping his own butt. And I think it is totally unfair that Neville can claim to have to poop and then take hostage of the bathroom for an hour. An hour? Seriously? It takes you an hour to poop?
While we are already on the subject, I swear my household is quickly turning into a frat house. The amount of burping and farting that is going on in this place is disturbing. But what is even more appalling is the amount of pride these boys are taking in farting and burping. You'd think it was an Olympic sport. I won't even go into details about the sounds and, yes, the smells of these incidents. Only know that I may suffocate in this house.
Those aren't the only smells I've been enjoying around these parts. Darius now thinks nothing is "funner" in this world than forcing me to smell his armpits. Thank heavens his pits don't actually smell. Somehow in his mind, smelling bad is the best thing ever and he's started to refuse to shower. It's not like we are pouring acid in his body. He gets a shower. A warm one. With yummy smelling soap and shampoo that won't sting his eyes. But he acts like the shower is a torture device.
I don't know what it is like to parent a little girl. In my head it includes butterflies, princesses, and bubble baths. All I know is that I have a social monster on my hands. Don't tell me how darn cute he is or how well behaved he's always been when you've seen him. I don't need to be reminded of his adorable-ness right now.
Right now, he is yelling from the bathroom for me to wipe his butt.
