This post was originally published on February 10, 2006.
What is it with little boys and rocks? I mean, they’re just rocks. Lumps of hardened earth. Dirty, drab little hard things that can be weaponized at any moment (ah, I may have just answered my own question…). As the mother of three boys, I find rocks everywhere. Just today, here are the places I found rocks in my house, and I promise I didn’t set any of these up…
In the floor of the minivan:
In the decorative chest on my coffee table:
In this Wal Mart sack hanging by the back door (and that’s all it contains–rocks):
In my four-year-old son’s coat pocket:
On a shelf in my seven-year-old son’s room:
And in my jewelry box. Okay, actually this is an acorn, but it’s still a hard, earthen object, and I didn’t put it there:
But you know what? These rocks all over my house mean those rowdy, noisy, rock-bearing boys can’t be far behind. I’ll take that any day.