The pictures that you hung perfectly straight with a measuring tape and a level are always crooked.
Plastic frogs and lizards have found a home in your potted plants.
You find legos in every corner, sofa cushion, and pocket.
Nurf bullets are flying through the air at any time, night or day.
The furniture takes on the smell of stinky boy feet.
Even though they have been admonished to “Be Quiet!” during naptime, the herd of elephants still stampede through the house and up and down the stairs.
Screaming is a common sound, usually not even requiring a mother’s concerned attention.
Wrestling and pain and injuries are all part of the fun.
Food disappears, yet nobody knows where it went.
Mealtimes are a crazy event. (You might even end up with dirty underwear in your soup.)
Super heroes with varying special powers are flying around the house with their capes flapping in the breeze.
Sometimes the disregard for the law of gravity results in crutches.
You may see your toddler wielding a plastic firearm.
The boys might wake up covered in dust mite bites, because their room is so very…well, dusty; not to mention messy, dirty, unkempt, disheveled, and an all around disaster area.
Potty language is considered to be the highest form of humor.
You need your husband to constantly remind you to, “stop worrying, this is normal boy behavior.”
You have many interesting conversations that go something like this:
“Mom! Cooper ate a slug!”
“Is that true Cooper?” you ask, calmly.
“Yes!” Cooper replies with much joy on his animated face.
“Did you chew it or swallow it whole?” You are curious.
“He chewed it,” Cole answers.
“So what did it taste like?” you ask.
“Chocolate!” Cooper responds.
“Cooper, do you know why you shouldn’t have eaten that slug?”
“Because I told you that you couldn’t have dessert tonight!” you reply with a smile on your face as you are thinking to yourself, “Boys!! I just love ’em!”
I could describe the perpetual state of your bathroom in a house full of boys…but I don’t want people to stop having little boys.