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.
Positively LOVE!!!
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