It’s spring break, and tonight we are having a sleepover-to-end-all sleepovers at our house. Little sister Corrie went to stay with grandparents, and each of my three sons has a buddy staying over.
There are six little boys between the ages of six and ten in my house.
All at the same time.
Let me just pause here to tell you that I love being the mother of sons. Being a girly girl, I am fascinated by these boys of mine. Watching them grow and be boyish and turn into young men–well, it’s just about the sweetest joy I’ve ever known. I think that little boys may be the most endearing creatures God ever put on this earth.
But they are also the most disgusting.
As these six boys sat around my table tonight, and the cacophony of burps, arm-pit farts, and booger jokes wafted around around my kitchen (while I was trying to eat, mind you), I found myself wondering why, exactly, boys are so fascinated with the more revolting aspects of human nature.
Think about it. There’s not really any good reason for it, from a biological standpoint.
Other little boy behaviors have clearly genetic benefits: they show off their muscles to prepare for attracting a mate. They jump off swingsets to prepare for taking calculated risks to further their livelihoods.
But how, I ask you, could fart jokes possibly contribute to the advancement of humankind?
I’m beginning to believe it’s one of those strange, leftover human traits, like the appendix. The appendix just sits there, performing no function other than sending doctors’ kids to college. The fart jokes just…I don’t know…remind us we descended from cave men?
I guess I’ll stop trying to attach value to this behavior, and embrace it, along with all the other endearing boy traits that come with it.
But first I’m going to try and finish my dinner. After they leave the room.