Best of Boys

School holidays, precious time with my boys, sleeping in, hanging out, playing games and a chance for them to recover from the rigours of their French primary school life. It means I get a break too from clockwatching and supervising homework, which is always welcome. We've been lucky enough to do a bit of skiing locally (one of the big perks of the area), and visited my family in the UK - precious moments.

On top of the world

The funny thing is, I never expected to be the mother of boys. I had no idea what makes them tick - 'slugs and snails and puppy dogs' tails' - surely I could only cope with 'sugar and spice and all things nice'?  It's very girl-centric on my side of the family and I distinctly remember telling English Gent when I was pregnant: "I don't do boys".  As he's one of four boys himself (I have the utmost respect for my mother-in-law), I should have known the Y chromosome would win out and I would find myself a 'lone Queen in a Kingdom of Kings' as Hannah Evans, author of the very funny (and accurate) 'MOB Rule: Lessons Learned by a Mother of Boys', so succinctly puts it. She and I both know the importance of sticks, lovingly brought home from den building expeditions, and bestowed with magical properties that I am not privy to, but know better than to contravene. Throw those sticks away at your peril Mum.....

My very own Ray Mears and Bear Grylls

Boys just do boy stuff, and whilst it has its moments, it's far more entertaining than I thought it would be. Quite frankly I'm happy not to be drowning in a sea of Barbies and Bratz dolls - give me Lego in all its forms, Playmobil knights, Ben 10 heroes and dinosaurs any day, though I risk breaking my ankle on a daily basis in their bedroom when a battle is in full swing, and woe betide me if I alter the position of the ever growing Hero Factory army, I'm liable to be court martialed.

Who's winning?

We are...

Stick 'em up!

So now, whether I wanted to or not, I have embarked on a veritable Boys Own Adventure, delving into worlds I never thought I would and enjoying them more than I expected. I'm not a fully fledged member of the club - I have to fly the flag for womanhood after all, but finally, after years of trying to understand them, the rules are becoming clearer. Take cricket for example: I'm no longer baffled by 'Silly Mid On' (it's a pitch position btw) and I'm getting better at mastering the art of the umpire's hand signals after hours of practice. Rock Boy has even deemed my bowling to be acceptable. This has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he's currently 406 not out (held over from last September). English Gent says I'm just far too nice...

Now then, how to get them to come with me to the shops?  I sense a bit of feminine guile aka bribery coming on....