While I was at my baby shower this weekend, I mentioned in conversation that I was a tomboy as a child. My sister immediately scoffed at my proclamation. I didn't understand. I climbed trees, swore off the color pink, caught frogs with my bare hands, and remember fighting the tree in my backyard with my
Did I need to pick my boogers, burp, and eat dirt in order to qualify as a tomboy? I'm not sure.
Anywhoo, I still believe that I WAS a tomboy and that deep down inside believe I will be able to channel that inner, suppressed tomboy as my two boys grow up and do more and more "boy" things. I had an opportunity to put that to the test on the very next day as Diego and I were playing in our yard. I could not put my finger on it, but I felt like someone had been staring at me.
After awhile, I spied a tiny little tree frog nestled on top of my hubby's big construction tool chest. He was looking up at me.
'What great fun! Diego can play with a new pet. I have to catch it!' I immediately thought to myself.
Since we moved to the house and began construction, there have been a plethora of animals visiting our yard, some not-so welcome: mice, snakes, goats (OK the goats were on the other side of our fence but still) etc. I did not expect to see a tree frog in our area. I channeled my inner tomboy for a few moments, ready to catch the frog with
As suspected, Diego was fascinated and delighted by the frog. He was also surprisingly cautious and gentle with it. He never actually handled it, but he did touch it softly for a split second. But after about 10 minutes, he got bored, waved goodbye to the frog, and ran off in the other direction. I returned Eugene Jr. to
But then later that night, hubby and Diego got into a farting contest. Diego is actually quite good if you ask me. But I still decided to sit this one out. My inner tomboy was not THAT crude; I'd rather eat dirt.