I am not a girl.
Obviously.
Though, when I say, “I am not a girl” I of course do not mean in the literal
sense.
I mean in no way shape, form or semblance,
am I at all
like a girl.
Imagine their surprise, when every simple daily event or memorable milestone
crossed with my two older sisters was done so with ease, then I came along and
turned my parent’s sense of normalcy upside down.
They are the same parents, with the same DNA, the same parenting style, and
the same discipline tactics.
But there
is one major difference…I am not a girl.
Physical appearances aside, let’s compare and contrast:
Conferences
My sisters get all positive, glowing remarks and their teachers wish “everyone
in the class was as sweet as them”.
Conversely, I have recently been put on a “discipline plan” to ensure I use “appropriate
words” and not “my body” when communicating with classmates.
My teachers refer to me as “spirited, energetic,
and creative” (code for “can’t sit still and mischievous”).
I have no doubt that the thought of a “class-full
of Brennan’s” is amongst their greatest fears.
Meals
The girls typically eat with utensils while seated and most of their food
ends up in their mouth.
I choose to make meal time more of an event for everyone involved.
Most nights, I think my Dad would rather
do
the taxes while running a triathlon in the snow with no television to watch the
Tigers play game 7 of the World Series than endure the struggle involved
with feeding me a meal.
Humor
My sisters think “knock-knock” jokes are pretty funny.
I, on the other hand, have what some would call more boorish of a sense of
humor.
Such as:
Showing off my junk and/or rear end,
Sitting on someone’s head with the hopes of catching them with their mouth
open when I fart,
Swiping credit cards through someone’s exposed upper ass crack,
Spanking unsuspecting males in their delicate manhood,
Wile E Coyote Super Genius getting blown-up,
Burping the Alphabet,
Irrelevantly yelling “Penis” (with no regard for context or appropriateness),
Changing the words of innocent preschool songs to involve the gratuitous use
of toilet humor,
…NOW THAT’S FUNNY STUFF!
I eat bugars, miss when I pee, color on walls, jump on my bed, take apart
toys, climb on everything, think I can fly, hide in the shower section of Home
Depot, use controversial (somewhat offensive) language, question and challenge
authority, push buttons (both literally and figuratively), kick when I’m angry,
yell when I’m happy, rollerblade in the house, play in the mud, knock over Lego
buildings, ride my bike down hills, take things that aren’t mine and throw them
when someone gets close to catching me, sit in laundry baskets naked while I
read books, and eat my weight in food at every meal.
I am also the best thing that ever happened to my parents.
Not because I make their lives easier (God knows that couldn’t be further
from the truth).
But because I am my Dad’s wrestling buddy, his legacy, his namesake, and his
life-long best friend.
Because I wake my Mom up with a hug that almost chokes her, make her laugh
so hard she pees her pants, melt her heart with my smile, and reminded her everyday
what it was like to fall in love for the first time.
Because I bring a kind of excitement, entertainment, and enjoyment to our
family that only I could.
Because I am a boy.
