Eight year old boys are totally incompatible with introverts, or
most anyone, except other eight year old boys. I'm just saying. I can barely handle him this week. I have deemed his eight year old year all about yo-yo's,
whistling, snapping one's fingers, and of course any other sound he
can make with his body. Help me, please.
His father took him swimming the other night to blow off some energy and steam. Even he thought he was too loud! This from the man who was given a broken megaphone when he was about eight and guess what? He fixed it, and then of course, tormented his neighbourhood. See? Eight is all about noise, mayhem, and movement.
Just recently brother heard about the book series Walter the Farting Dog. Thanks, Young Explorers. I thought I was handing him something that would give me five minutes of peace and quiet while he perused the pages. NOPE. He is now begging for Walter. ("Don't even think about it, Grandma!")
I dare say, if he got his hands on a copy, it just might surpass his favourite book of the past two years: John, Paul, George & Ben. Such a lovely book, that one. His favourite line? "Extra-large underwear!" In the most unfavourable of conditions, without warning, and with no one understanding a lick of what he's talking about, he'll yell out that line. Like lightening on a stick it is: Heads snap around, brains fry, and hairs stand on end. I try to shush him as fast as I can, but it's never fast enough. He cracks up hysterically. The looks I get? They are the same as when one asks a woman when her due date is and oops, you realize she is NOT pregnant. YES, NOT. Eight year old boys put foot in mouth exponentially every day. The kicker? They enjoy ever moment of it - along with other eight year old boys.
His father took him swimming the other night to blow off some energy and steam. Even he thought he was too loud! This from the man who was given a broken megaphone when he was about eight and guess what? He fixed it, and then of course, tormented his neighbourhood. See? Eight is all about noise, mayhem, and movement.
Just recently brother heard about the book series Walter the Farting Dog. Thanks, Young Explorers. I thought I was handing him something that would give me five minutes of peace and quiet while he perused the pages. NOPE. He is now begging for Walter. ("Don't even think about it, Grandma!")
I dare say, if he got his hands on a copy, it just might surpass his favourite book of the past two years: John, Paul, George & Ben. Such a lovely book, that one. His favourite line? "Extra-large underwear!" In the most unfavourable of conditions, without warning, and with no one understanding a lick of what he's talking about, he'll yell out that line. Like lightening on a stick it is: Heads snap around, brains fry, and hairs stand on end. I try to shush him as fast as I can, but it's never fast enough. He cracks up hysterically. The looks I get? They are the same as when one asks a woman when her due date is and oops, you realize she is NOT pregnant. YES, NOT. Eight year old boys put foot in mouth exponentially every day. The kicker? They enjoy ever moment of it - along with other eight year old boys.
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