Before the triplets came around, my child-rearing experience was limited to the fairer gender. In fact, one of my biggest concerns during the early stages of the triplet pregnancy was that we’d learn that all three of the triplets were girls.
Not that I wouldn’t have been thrilled with such. I would have been. It’s just that it would have put me in a decided majority. Because, aside from my dog, I’d be the guy — completely surrounded by girls. Five of them, in fact. And, if it were all the same to everyone else, I’d just as soon add a boy or two to the mix.
Which is exactly what wound up happening; our triplets were of the boy-boy-girl variety, and I couldn’t have been happier.
That said, these little boys certainly packed quite a few surprises! Here are 15 things that no one warned me about when it came to my little fellas:
Diaper changing hazards
So bottom line, whenever you’re changing a little boy, you gotta cover that thing up. Period. Because random streams of urine are a factor, folks. And that’s a lesson you only have to learn once before you pretty much master it.
Boys wear gowns
I know. Pretty dimwitted of me to not realize that. Because wearing a gown makes all the sense in the world – you know, what with all the diaper changing going on. Still, it took me a while to get used to the fact that my boys would spent a ton of time kicking it in their gowns. Even when diaper changing wasn’t a factor, as evidenced by this picture taken right before their baptism.
Late to some milestones
One thing you learn when you have triplets is to never compare. Even so, I couldn’t help but notice that it took my boys a lot longer to get potty trained than it took their sister. They were late to talking, too, so while their sister was beginning to communicate in earnest, all my little fellas could do was point and grunt.
Playing with their, you know
Simply put, I cannot believe how much little boys play with their… you know… and while this is obviously something I would never photograph, I will say this — they’ll stretch that thing like it’s one of those flexible Gumby toys. So, you know, heads up for that.
Why is it that boys are always making sound effects? Like zooming/swishing/wooshing-type noises? It’s like the mere noise that accompanies whatever they’re doing just isn’t cutting it. In this shot, for instance, he was all “kshhh, kshhh, kshhh,” which I assume he equates with digging or something. Also, so often these noises that they make involve the manufacturing of, then inadvertent distribution of spit. So there’s that.
Most boys play rough. That’s all there is to it. Especially when compared to most little girls. My guys are NOT afraid to pound on each other in the name of playtime fun. But even if the other’s not around, they can still be seen hurling themselves on the ground via overly aggressive summersaults and the like. It’s like they think they’re crash test dummies or something.
My boys are constantly engaging the other to see who can jump down the most steps, and it doesn’t matter where they are. This day saw both of them take off from the fourth one. For kicks and giggles, I followed suit. Higher than it looks, people. And a bad call for a guy in his 40s. Those little guys got some hops! And some shock-absorbing knees, too. Me? Not as much.
All the bouncing
Even when the feat isn’t daring, per se, these guys still act as if their legs are made of pogo sticks. They’ll skip, bounce and hop anywhere.
The "Geronimo!" Effect
Back when I was a bouncy little boy, I used to yell “Geronimo!” while doing any number of things. Running across to break the chain in a game of Red Rover as well as diving into a pile of leaves immediately come to time. As does jumping off a moving swing. Well, apparently that’s a deal that transcends the generations. Because though he didn’t yell “Geronimo!” during this maneuver, he sure was yelling something. And whatever it was, it made his aerobatics that much cooler.
No. The sunlight had nothing to do with his expression. Both my boys are constantly making weird faces. Sure. My daughters will bust out a goofy grin every now and then. But my boys? It’s like every time I say cheese, they turn into professional face contortionists.
Matchbox car obsession
These things are meticulously parked all over the house. Seriously. On the day I snapped this picture, there were five other such “stations.” It was borderline creepy.
Have mud, will play.
Who needs the playset slide when you’ve got a mudslide 10 feet away? Duh.
They'll pee anywhere
It’s like they think it’s one of their inalienable rights or something. That they can just make it happen whenever and wherever they want. And I promise I’ve not taught them that. In fact, I’m teaching that this is NOT acceptable. (At least the above episode happened on our property.)
I’ve heard other people talk about this, but I didn’t quite get it. Now that my boys are five, I finally understand. It’s always about the silliness. At least they’ve not gotten to the cocky-know-it-all phase. Because I’m pretty sure that’s what eventually replaces the silliness.
While my little Peanut (left) is usually very well put together, even at the end of the day as was the case in this picture, the boys are usually trainwrecks, as evidenced by the hair Jack’s got going here. I swear, it seems like they always look like they’ve just gotten out of bed. Even mere minutes after their hair’s been brushed.
But it doesn’t matter. I love that they’re so adventurous and mischievous that they’re constantly wearing a head of crazy hair . Because I love their crazy hair. Just like I love my crazy boys.