Ode to Antonin

Hello and welcome to an all-boy Saturday here at the Wannaskan Almanac. Today is August 9th.

We're wrapping up hosting the Youngest's first sleepover birthday party. Ten boys piled in, some seeing Antonin for the first time since school let out in May. Hugs kicked off the sleepover with lots of jumping and jubilant exclamations. They got to business, taking stock of the Nerf gun supplies, with the neighborhood kids running back to their houses to grab more armour and ammunition. Despite yesterday morning's rain, the rest of the day offered clear skies and sunshine. Boys threw their stuff into the guest room, ran outside, and kicked off their shoes. Barefoot boys running in the grass and climbing trees - a sign that, yes, despite the school supply sales cropping up and the return to fall sports, summer is still in our hearts.

I have friends who are self-professed boy moms. While I have three boys, I also have two girls, so have never fully embraced or understood the deep understanding and acceptance that comes with the phrase "boy mom." After hosting 10 boys—and both sisters gone—I have gained some new awareness and appreciation for this phrase.

I've come to believe that boy moms have a unique grace and capacity to run the 3-ring circus while rolling with the crazy, i.e., all the unexpected things that can happen when boys ruckus and play with abandon. I thought of these women and celebrated their incredible superpowers as I tended to the following:

1) A bloody, snotty nose that I cleaned up and dabbed with Vaseline so he'd stop chapping it up with his tongue licks (a boy's way of wiping his nose.)

2) A scabby wound on the leg that got freshly reopened and bloody, requiring a thorough washing followed by antibiotic ointment and a band-aid, to which the kid assured he could attend to himself, to which I assured him, "My house, my rules. I'm the doctor."

3) A lost tooth (To which the kid says, "Don't worry. I know the tooth fairy's not real." To which I replied, "Really? The tooth fairy still comes to our house. She's not a very good one, but she still comes. To which he replied with a perplexed look as if I'd shifted the solid foundation of knowing under his feet.)

4) And a stubbed toe that he thought might have been broken, but upon further inspection, revealed a gray/blue blister that could have been a blood blister or a very large sliver. After some minor exploratory surgery, I'm pleased to report it was an old blood blister that only needed pressure released, followed by more antibiotic ointment and a band-aid. (I'm pretty sure that boy moms are also okay with other moms performing minor exploratory surgery when the situation calls for it.)

I'm pleased to report that when I announced it was time to step into the tub to wash the grass and grime from their legs - and to prevent any possible poison ivy outbreaks - they cheerfully lined up and were putty in my hands as they offered up their feet one by one to be washed and scubbed in soap and cold water. My apologies, though, for the caked dirt that remained under their toenails. I'm optimistic boy moms get it.

And now the Youngest's odometer of life is rolling over into the double digits, which means no more single-digit kids in our household. An end to any era is bittersweet, isn't it?

But for now, we celebrate! The friends and I compiled a list of things they like about Antonin. We call it "Ode to Antonin."

Ode to Antonin

Antonin is super friendly and nice.

He is really fun to play with in our friend group.

He is the youngest kid in our grade, but he’s one of the smartest and friendliest in our grade.

He’s always such a good friend. He always has my back. (And he comes to my house a lot.)

What I like about Antonin is that he is funny. At school, he’s really smart. He always gets good grades. The teachers love him.

He is really nice. He’s really fun to play with. I like the way he acts in the Matilda the Musical.

He looks pretty plain, but his craziness says otherwise.

I think he’s cool. His hair is cool.

Crazy. I like that he compliments people sometimes. When I come to school, sometimes I wear different kinds of shirts, and he says, “Nice shirt.”