Surprisingly, Boys Love Girls: Twitterpation Strikes the Flying Circus!

Boy twitterpated


Everybody knows boys between the ages of 7-12 are usually not so keen on girls, you know – cooties and all.  That’s why the conversation that took place while we were at a restaurant having dinner a few nights ago still cracks me up!  As my boys were talking, I flashed back to this scene in Bambi, you know the one where Bambi, Flower and Thumper (otherwise known as Caleb, Noah and Micah) are getting schooled about Twitterpation.

Their friend, the wise owl says “… Nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime.  For example:  You’re walking alone, minding your business.  You’re looking neither to the left, nor to the right, when all of a sudden you run smack into a pretty face.  Woo-woo!”

The Goss boys didn’t wait for spring nor did they hold out for adolescence.  (I never realized how the end of that word is rightly pronounced less-sense.)  The dreaded disease for all boys everywhere hit the 3 Bros Flying Circus this Summer.  Bam, Bam, Bam like dominoes on Jessie Porter’s card table.

Twitterpation surprisingly struck my youngest son first.  When my hubby picked Micah (7) up from Young Writer’s Camp, his counselor said, Micah has a budding friendship.  He’s been carrying a girl’s books, opening her door and retrieving her lunch.  Now if you know my son Micah, you’d know that he once declined to jump in a bounce house because it was pink and had Dora the Explorer painted on it.

The following day, Micah came home from camp, jumped on the computer and asked.  “Mom how do you spell trampoline?”  Followed by, “is dad’s number 729-XXXX.”  Like any mom who respects her son’s privacy and treats him as an equal – NOT – I said, “move over boy and let me see what you’re doing.”  They don’t call me the Ringmaster for nothing!

The letter read:  Dear Mindy (name changed to protect the not so innocent),  Want to come over to my house for a playdate.  We can jump on my trampoline and I can teach you how to play Minecraft.  My dad’s number is 729-XXXX.  Give me a call.  Micah

I was surprised by my reaction when Mindy actually did text Micah (several times).  You would think that a Pastor’s wife would have tsk’d, tsk’d the bold moves of the little vixen, who by the way was two years older than Micah.  No  sir, I am ashamed to say that I walked around with a big smile thinking, “that’s my boy!”  Of course. after the fourth text we cut them off and let them both know that they are way too young to be text buddies.

Fast forward a about three weeks.  A few days ago while sitting in church at our school’s formal, reverent, convocation, I notice a girl two rows up continuously looking back at my oldest son Noah (12).  Each time she looked back, Noah gave her a smile and a nod.  Like the patient, subtle mom that I am – NOT – I leaned over and whispered, “Noah, is that girl looking at you?”  He answered “YUP, and I hope she’ll be in my class”.  I was floored…

Following convocation we all went out to dinner where Noah proceeded to tell his brothers about the girl in church.  Caleb (10, middle son and breakfast zombie) says “Oh man that’s nothing.  I saw a new girl in my class at the back to school picnic the other day and she is TURBO CUTE!  She walked by and was all (flipping hair in slow motion smiling and looking over his shoulder while batting eyelashes) and I was like (eyes wide open flashing a huge cheesy grin)!”

We all laughed until we cried and I’m sure that the folks sitting at the surrounding tables were entertained as well.  That night after everyone was asleep, I realized that I was exhibiting double standards.  If my boys were girls, I would not have found these stories funny and would be up praying for my daughters instead of praying for forgiveness for my own double standards.

I’ve had a couple of days to think and pray and have come to the conclusion that I’m happy that my boys are experiencing some mild symptoms of “twitterpation”.  We can talk with them and model for them the proper ways to respectfully enjoy the company of the wonderful creatures God created named girls.

In a few years, when they are inevitably fully twitterpated they will know that they can come to Mom and Dad for advice because we shared a letter, and a whisper, and a laugh!

Until next time…Fly high and dazzle ’em!

~The Ringmaster

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The Undead is Dead…at least for today!

Inquiring minds just had to know the results of yesterday’s resolve not to nag, bribe or strangle the Zombie at my breakfast table, otherwise known as Caleb.  (Yesterday’s post, “Zombie at My Breakfast Table” will catch you up to speed.)

You’ve heard of a leadership vacuum?  You know, the theory that if there is no clearly appointed leader, someone with leadership qualities will rise and fill the vacuum.  Today, I witnessed the nag vacuum.  That’s right, this morning as I stepped down from my position of Chief Nag and Executioner; my handsome hubby filled the vacuum.

As expected, Caleb crept into the kitchen, sat, stared and mumbled; unaware of the diabolical plan that the Ringmaster had set into motion.  He did not expect a mom who very calmly and sweetly said, “good morning Captain Caleb.  Your reward for joining us  this morning is a hug and a kiss from mom.”  That was it, no nagging or yelling – at least not from me…

Fifteen minutes later, Caleb (still sitting and staring and mumbling) gets blasted by his dad.  “Boy you better pick-up that spoon and eat right now…!!!!”  You know zombies, and now you know Caleb, neither are fazed by mere threats.  But, what this particular little zombie didn’t know is, the Ringmaster had transferred from her position as Chief Nag and Executioner to Master Manipulator Extraordinaire.

I, in the most saccharine tone I could muster, told my other sons “since you have eaten your breakfast and completed all of your morning tasks, you may watch Kick Buttowski: Suburban Daredevil (my boys’ favorite show) until it’s time to leave for school.  Oh (pause) and by the way, Caleb, you’ll have to leave the room and move on with the morning routine.  So sorry Caleb, what a bummer huh?”

I know, that was a major blow below the belt: 1) my boys are never allowed to watch tv before school and 2) they are rarely allowed to watch any show at all on a school day period!

Do I have to tell you that from that point, Caleb finished his breakfast and his morning routine in five minutes!  Now that’s what I’m talking about!  The Undead is officially dead and Kick Buttowski rules!

Until next time…Fly high and dazzle ’em!

~The Ringmaster

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Zombie at our Breakfast Table!

If there is one thing I can’t understand it is the resurgence of zombie popularity.  Don’t get me wrong I love a throw back to the old school, but this zombie thing is one that really creeps me out.  When I say I’m creeped out it’s not for the reasons one might think.

As a kid growing up I was never afraid of zombies.  In fact, I thought they were hilarious.  The thought of a creature that dragged one gimpy leg, didn’t have the sense to put his arm down, moved at a snail’s pace and could not articulate a threat never intimidated me.  I was always a stellar athlete/ Tom-boy/Diva so I thought I could either outrun or outsmart the slow, poorly dressed, half dead idiot.

Fast forward forty years, I now have a zombie living under my own roof.  Believe me, this time, I am TERRIFIED.  I have gone to battle with this zombie everyday for ten years.  Every battle plan and strategic move I’ve made has led to defeat.  Just like those zombies in the old school horror flicks, this one just keeps coming back and is wearing me down!

My middle son Caleb, shuffles slowly to the breakfast table every morning.  With limbs not quite functioning as they should, he kicks his brothers under the table and knocks over glasses of milk. Staring into space he mumbles something that sounds like ughhhgrrr! Cautiously, I ask what’s wrong Caleb?  One of his brothers answers, he doesn’t like the breakfast again.  (We’re having eggs, if it were lunch time, he’d eat two!)

I blow through my arsenal.  Beginning with sweet reasonable words “Caleb eggs are super good for you and you love them. Remember you asked for two for lunch yesterday sweetie.”  Inevitably I move on to bribery “if you finish your breakfast in the next two minutes I’ll give you an extra Gossbuck!” (More on Gossbucks in a future post).  Refusing to admit defeat, I take my last stand which sadly usually involves yelling. “IF YOU DON’T EAT YOUR BREAKFAST I’M GONNA _______ !” On alternating days, “CALEB, TAKE SIX BIG BITES CLEAR YOUR PLACE AND DON’T ASK ME FOR FOOD AGAIN, EVER!”

What’s a ringmaster to do?  At this point, I realize I don’t have the strength, wisdom or self-control to handle this zombie day in and day out.  It is here in this moment that I need to seek God and ask for wisdom, patience and self-control.  Yes, I want to defeat the zombie, but I don’t want to deflate my son.

I actually googled, “how to defeat zombies” and came across the top ten ways to kill a zombie.  Most of them involved some very gruesome violent activities that Social Services would not approve of.  But one of them did capture my attention.

Tomorrow, when I hear the shuffling towards the kitchen followed by GRRRRR.  I’ll say good morning Captain Caleb.  I’ll let him sit and stare and spill and mumble.  When breakfast is over, and his plate is still full, I’ll give him a big kiss and move him through the rest of his morning routine (which by the way, he has no problem completing).

Why will I do this?  Well number 3 on that top 10 list reads:  “Starve the zombies out. A lot of people don’t understand that zombies will continue rotting indefinitely. A zombie only has a life span of 2-3 years, after which point they will be too corroded to be any threat.”

I figure, when he get’s hungry enough, he’ll eat.  What’s more important than being in the Clean Plate Club for breakfast?  My relationship with Caleb and his launch into his day!  I agree with #3 above.  This zombie most definitely will not survive, particularly if I starve him out.  Heck, Caleb will be a teenager in three years and will soon be eating everything in sight and I’ll have another monster to deal with.  God does answer prayers in mysterious ways!

Until next time…Fly high and dazzle ’em!

~The Ringmaster

PS:  This post is being shared with fellow mommy bloggers as a Manic Monday post on Pending Perfection. If you’re having a Manic Monday or would like to read some other very funny, very real perspectives on parenting, hop on over and give some of the other blogs some love.

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