Big Boys

Today, one of the little girls in my class informed me that big girls don’t poop. How’s that for an opening line for a blog? Anyway, her statement reminded me that I had been meaning to blog about Zachary’s definition of a big boy.

He’s been pretty set on gender recognition lately. At the table, he’ll tell us there are two girls and three boys. Or when all his friends have been picked up from class at the end of the schoolday, he’ll tell his teacher that there is just one boy left.

As of late, he has started making fairly random statements about what big boys do and don’t do.

Big boys don’t wear skirts.
You might assume that this comes from not being allowed to dress up in Emily’s princess dresses. While I am sure he heard it in that context, it actually came from a time when Scott was teaching him how to tell which bathroom he uses at restaurants.

Big boys aren’t cold.
This is Zachary’s reason for not wanting to put his coat on at the end of the day. I believe this one to an extent, considering that Scott keeps the temperature pretty low and runs the ceiling fan all night.

Big boys don’t break it.
This one came as a admonishment to Scott one night when we’d gone out to eat. The plastic lid to one of the drink cups had broken, and Scott proceded to tear it up the rest of the way. Zachary’s response was to tell him not to do that.

He’s pretty set on being a big boy. Even though he’s only been three for about 6 weeks, he’s already telling us that he’ll soon be four just like Timo. I hate to tell the guy that he’ll never be the same age as Timotihy.



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