What is it with boys?*

*One of my plans for the blog this year is to repost some older posts from the archives.  I've been writing here since 2006, so there's a lot of material there, and it's fun for me to re-read posts from those years, too.  :)  This post today was originally from April of 2006, and it features Ella and Isaac, ten whole years ago. ~sob~

What is it with boys and their inability to find things?! Today I was on the phone with- who else?- Amy, and she got interrupted at least twice with the request from her boys to find something (“Mama, where is the bat?” Her response: “I don’t know. I haven’t played with your bat.”) I get a real kick out of this since Amy is the only woman amongst her four, so she is asked this question MANY more times than I am in any given day!

It really is a gender thing. I can ask my four-year old daughter to find something and she promptly finds it and brings it to me. Tada! Mission accomplished.
I adored (and so miss!) these dress-up years.

I will ask my son (who is two and a half) to pick up the crayon right in front of his feet and he will spin around dazed and confused, like, “Huh? Where?” while my daughter and I are pointing and hollering, “Right there! No. Turn and face us. Now look at your feet. Your feet! Where are your feet? Point to your feet. Now: see the crayon?” And he stares at the ground in bewilderment. We all end up laughing and inevitably I get up, walk over to him, pick up the crayon and put it away.

My little guy also does this: I will say, holding an item, “Will you please take this into the kitchen?” He will take it and head to the kitchen, stop in the doorway, and then turn and ask, “This kitchen?” Um. Yep! (We only have the one!) He is the same with any room in the house. If you ask him to go anywhere in the house, he’ll stop and clarify: “This living room?”, or "This front door?"

I’m not really sure why he does this. Or why he can’t locate anything. But I sure love him. He is the cheeriest, sweetest, most affectionate, dearest little boy. And I could weep for the thought he will ever leave me. Okay, I can have that thought no longer. I will seriously start to cry.


2016 note: I was completely amused as I read this post to realize that the sweetly clueless two-year-old Isaac has now, at twelve, become my go-to person when something in the house has gone missing.  He catalogs all details in his brain and is always the one I ask (or tell the other kids to ask) when something needs to be found.  He always remembers where it last was. 

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