boys are gross.

i don't understand little boys. i don't understand men, either, so should i be surprised that little boys freak me out on a regular basis? i don't get my dad or my brothers or matt or most of my guy friends. they eat like wild animals. they do things that seem irrational and strange. they say things that make me want to ask them what the hell they are thinking long before they let their odd bits of wisdom seep from their mouths. they don't listen to what we say... even when we've said it a billion and a half times before. do they ignore us or do they actually have hearing problems?

last night when i was folding and hanging laundry, i went to the closet to get some hangers for matt's clothes. in said closet, which i have organized and reorganized too many times to count (mostly matt's side), i saw, unsurprisingly, all of the unused hangers that he so helpfully put back on the rails NOT in the middle of the lower part of the closet where i have been placing the unused hangers for YEARS. rather, they were stuffed haphazardly throughout the hanging shirts and pants. and i know that he did it on purpose, because several of the hangers were hung backwards, which do NOT go in easily if you place them in such a manner. this is a small detail. i know this. but when you've dealt with the same small issue for what seems like centuries, you start to wonder... what the hell?

this is just like the tupperware cabinet in our kitchen. i like to have the containers neatly stacked and organized so that they ALL fit evenly and are easier to remove and replace. but i'll be damned if they ever are if I am not the one to unload the dishwasher. even after years of gentle encouragement to put the things back the proper way, my husband STILL can't do it. and so i wonder... what the hell?

and boys do gross stuff, too. they drip toothpaste all over clean sinks. they scatter beard shavings about the bathroom. they leave used boxer shorts everywhere except the hamper. when matt and i lived in wilmington, every day after work he would walk in the kitchen, take off his dirty socks, and place them on the kitchen table. what the hell? it seems that putting their dirty clothes in the laundry basket would cause men to lose their super powers. like superman is to kryptonite, my husband is to being tidy.

neither do i understand the smells that boys create. (even if they don't admit that they make such smells, they think they're funny... bob.) all of the fellas in my life can clear a room in one small second. seriously, do they have different digestive systems than women? and, even odder, they LOVE the smell of the smells they create. my brothers, kent and john wesley, will fart and literally marinate in it. they'll cup their hands and try to waft the fart smell right up to their nose, as if they gain strength from the disgusting scents that they manifest. when we were little and on road trips, my dad would drop a bomb in the car and lock the windows so everyone had to experience the joy that was his flatulence. while we were gasping for air like victims of mustard gas with tears pouring out of our eyes, my dad would be laughing. what the hell?

so, should i be surprised that summit is just as gross? this kid, this 3 year old little boy, can fart on command. and not just little baby poots. big, long-winded, rumbling farts. from him. from my baby boy. and every time he does it, he gets the biggest smile on his face. like he just discovered a living dinosaur. and he can burp just the same. big, long-winded, rumbling, gutteral burps. and he loves every second. he laughs and laughs and laughs. big belly laughs. and because most of the men in his life think it's funny, they laugh along with him. and what does this do? it makes him think it's okay.

clearly, it's not, because he took his "talents" to school with him on wednesday. oh yes. and you know what he did with those talents? well, when i went to pick him up from school, ms. rita, his teacher, approached me with a stern face, and i was like, "oh no. what did he do?" because, literally, she has not once this year had anything bad to tell me about my summit. i even ask her if he does anything bad. i know it doesn't seem possible, but he hasn't had to go to time out once. well, that ALL changed on wednesday. he burped in his teacher's face. and laughed. oh. my. god. of course.

of course, that little son-of-a-gun was in BIG trouble. no ds. no books for bed. straight to time out at home. i was mortified. how could he do this? oh yeah. i remember. because boys are gross. but that buck stops here. but, first, i have to figure out how.