Sometimes I catch myself questioning if I'm raising a good boy. Which I realize sounds absolutely ridiculous as I type that out, but it's the truth. And honestly, I think it's easy to do. I think every mom questions herself from time time.
We live in a violent world, and as a mom, all I want is to protect my son and raise him to have a heart of gold. So when nerf darts are flying at me, and everything around us becomes a weapon of some sort, I can't help but worry where he's already learning this...
...I forgot, I have a boy.
If it's not the guns and swords, it's the wrestling and play-fighting. As a mom, and a girl, I can't help but think, "should you be wanting to wrestle already?!"
...I forgot, I HAVE A BOY.
Baths end with me playing matador and Henry crashing into my towel like a bull, but I wrap him up in that towel and love on him before he has a chance to say, "a-din (again)?!"
Henry is full of spirit, but he's so genuinely caring. I can always talk a kiss out of him. He doesn't sleep without his big, bug-eyed, ty friends. He doesn't go to bed without snuggling first. He doesn't leave Gigi's without a hug and kiss, from Granddad too! He never forgets please and thank you.