I always wanted a boy. I love being a momma to a boy. For the past two years, I really didn't think there was that much difference between the genders. I mean, he has Gigi the pink doll and even enjoys a romp around the yard in my expensive stilettos. (Until I catch him.)
All of a sudden he is obsessed with trucks. Obsessed. Which wouldn't be a problem per se, except that he wants to know the name of them. RIGHT. NOW.
Darling Husband has this magnificent talent that he can glance at a grill zooming past at 65-MPH and tell you the make, model and if its been repainted. I can't even make up the names of trucks to try and fool him.
"WHAT THAT? MOMMA WHATTHATWHATTHATWHATTHAT?????"
"Um, it's a...Ford 60-ton, ah, dumperheffer...orange bus-like thing..."
"NOOOOOOOOO! WANT DADADADDA NOOOOOOOOW!"
Driving to the grocery store is super fun.
I need to get my Mack-on and waste some brain space trying to learn names of trucks. Of course, by the time I can rattle off a few he will have moved on to dinosaurs and then I may just run away.