Send in the Clowns

You know the thing that's best about grandboys?  Their style masquerades as slovenly, silly or out-right ridiculous.   Their clothes match their rooms match their pre-bath coloring matches the ring left around the tub.  But make no mistake, they know exactly what they are doing.  And they are out to revolutionize the world.

Little girls wear headbands until they graduate to barrettes and then rubber bands.  Little boys disappear when a comb is present.  Little girls use napkins.  Boys use their sleeves - IF it occurs to them to use anything at all.  Little girls pick shoes for their outfit.  Little boys don't wear "outfits" or shoes if they can get away with it.

Boys have their own sense of fashion: jeans, sweat pants, t-shirts, Dad's t-shirts (especially to bed).  Moms of boys do not change outfits on their progeny in the middle of the day - unless there is excessive ketchup, mud or bodily fluids making it a necessity.  Even then, she must corner the giggling gamester to achieve her objective.

Moms must work their way into the automatic acceptance of boyhood chaos and calamity.  Granmas, especially if they raised boys themselves, not only come by it naturally, but like to join the parade.

My Granma (2 sons, 5 grandboys, lots of greats and great-greats!):

My Mom (3 sons, 6 grandboys, 6 greatboys to date):

Me (3 sons, 5 grandboys): 

Yep, yep!  We love a circus!