Little Boys

Last week at Kenzie's soccer game we put Tate on a blanket on the ground and he quickly drew the attention of the coach's two young boys. They were probably 5 and 6 or around there and they were such funny little brothers. Tate was lying on his tummy looking at them and they took turns getting right in his face. They loved Tate's little hands and feet. They kept touching his hair, his cheeks, feeling his gums for teeth, which I didn't appreciate so much ("Baby do you have teefs? Huh, baby? Let's see."). Then they'd wrestle each other and jump on each other and throw each other to the ground, often reminding Tate to watch, "Watch this baby..." as one brother jumps on the other's back accompanied by a grunt of toughness. Tate was enthralled and didn't take his eyes off of these tough little people. Mom, Aunt Sue, and I busted up laughing when one brother was feeling and squishing Tate's ears and said, "Woah, he's got BIG cartiladge!" Like it was the most amazing discovery he'd ever made. Hilarious. Boys are so different! It was an interesting glimpse into what my little guy will be doing in a few years with a brother or his dad. Whichever.