Gifts from little boys.

When I found out I was pregnant the first time, I made no excuses about the fact that I really, really wanted a girl.

RJ really, really REALLY wanted a girl, too.

And we are clearly the type of people who get what we want, right?

When I found out that zj was a boy, I wasn't disappointed, exactly, it was more like low grade panic.

I didn't really know anything about boys.

I really didn't know anything about snips and snails and puppy dog tails and dinosaurs and frogs and sports and superheroes and toy cars and blue rooms and sneakers dragons and knights and oh dear god, I'd already picked out a pink crib set.

People who knew me assured me that boys are easier than girls.

People who didn't know me assured me that boys are easier than girls.

And it was clear, from almost the beginning, that zj was all boy, all the time.

When I found out I was pregnant again, I knew from almost the first minute that cj was a boy as well.  And not only did I know, I tried to blame prepare RJ, who remained hopeful for a girl, but I just KNEW.

And I was right.

So now the boys in my house outnumber me three to one.

There are ninjas, swords and superheroes on every available surface.

I'm pretty sure that the little boy smell will never come completely out of my bathroom.

The noise level is nearly equal to an 80's hair band concert.

There is this indescribable energy that permeates every room in my house.

The amount of grass-stained laundry is unbelievable.

And there are two little boys.

One of them grins a big gummy, wet grin every time I walk through his line of vision. Every. Single. Time.

One of them picks me "flowers" every day.  He even tries to make RJ pull the car over when he sees flowers that he thinks his Mama will like.

And I've decided that I love being right.