This song resonates with me for the simple reason that…I love my Beautiful Boys. I love John’s reminder that it’s not the end result, but what happens in the middle, that matters. You’ll occasionally see posts on this blog under the heading Beautiful Boy(s) and when you do, bear with me while I wax a bit on the joys (and horrors) of my two sons.
I remember a night not so long ago when my sweet cherubs spent the entire ride home competing in a…is there no delicate way to say this?…a farting contest (one delicate fellow boy-mom blogger calls them “windies” – so much nicer). Fake farts, of course. They are not yet (thank HEAVENS) capable of spontaneously generating gas upon a moment’s notice, but they are quite capable of extremely resonant raspberries. Even the two year old.
I started to sanctimoniously order them to stop, but I sanctimoniously ordered myself to shut up instead and giggled along with them all the way home. Especially when Scrappy, who could barely talk plain, held his nose and shouted “PEEEE YEW! Mommy! Dat you?” and then laughed hysterically at his own joke.
Nature, or nurture? You tell me.