Boys are gross.

Lately we have really been struggling with manners. I have done a good job of drilling into Maverick’s head that we don’t: leave pee on the bathroom floor, leave the toilet seat up, burp or fart without saying “excuse me,” or spit in the house, to name a few. But he will be six at the end of the summer. It’s been a long road, friends.

But … Asher. Oh, Asher. He will be three at the end of the summer and is just now discovering all the ways he can be obnoxious and rude. He’s changing from a baby into a boy, and all of the sudden burping on purpose is absolutely hilarious. It all came to a head last night when he burped so many times in succession at the table that he threw up before I could excuse him. Threw up, at the table, during dinner. Wow.

I cleaned him up and kicked his little ass out of the kitchen. Maverick soon followed, because he couldn’t stop laughing. Since Asher didn’t really eat any dinner, I was awakened by him at 1:00 a.m, 3:00 a.m., and 6:00 a.m. and each time he was smiling because I think he knows that is charming. “Snack, Mommy? Snack?” Each time I shook my head and muttered that the sun wasn’t up yet, and back into bed he went. I have an impressive bruise on my left arm from where I ran directly into a doorjamb during one of these encounters, because I AM EXHAUSTED. 

At the 6:00 waking, I directed him to his Daddy and climbed back into bed. Normally I am clattering around in the kitchen by 7:00 at the latest, but not today. Eventually, Robbie brought me coffee and seemed concerned that I was still in bed. I pulled the covers over my head and wished them all away. But then I heard the baby and realized someone had to rescue her, because the menfolk were probably in the kitchen drinking Aunt Jemima syrup straight from the bottle. So I got up.

Wild indians.

I sometimes wonder if I am too hard on them. Do I expect too much by setting a high standard of behavior and manners? After some reflection, I really don’t think that I do. Just because they are boys does not mean that they are exempt from politeness, even at home. The first experience they will have with the ladies is going to be me and their sister, and this lady does not like to be around gross. 

One day, maybe one of them will marry a nice girl who also does not like to be around gross, and maybe she will thank me. If not, I’ll just thank myself when I see my son(s) leaving the room to pass gas so the people around them don’t have to smell it.

Uphill battles are the most satisfying ones to win. And I will win, because if there is one thing I can’t stand, it’s smelling a fart that comes from an able-bodied person who’s laughing.