Last night, I took Stephen, Adrian, and a friend to the Y for movie in the pool night.
My point about the middle child was proven: without the bright sun of the twins’ cuteness blinding people, the moon of Adrian’s cuteness shone forth and he got the compliments he deserves!
A tween girl swam up to Stephen, floating innocently on his noodle, and sang in a cutesy baby voice, “Oh hi! You are so cute! Can I have a hug?”
Stephen turned red and looked panicked. The girl spotted Adrian. “Oooh,” she squealed, “You are soooo cute too! You are a cutie cutie! Can I have a hug?”
Adrian grinned and threw his arms around her neck. She continued talking to him in baby voice, and he loved it.
“Are they twins?” She asked me.
I laughed. “No, no. He’s 7 and he’s 4,” I answered, pointing. (It was dark, and they’re the same height bobbing in the deep end)
Her jaw dropped. “He’s 7!?” She asked, looking a little embarrassed. “He doesn’t look 7! He looks so much younger. I thought he was like, 5.”
She returned to babying Adrian and gushing over his cuteness.
When it was time to go, I took Adrian in the family shower room and sent Stephen and his friend to the boys’ locker room. I was a little worried sending them off on their own; I thought they’d get distracted and never come out. But they were old enough. Boy’s locker room, ages 6-11, the sign on the door proclaimed. After they disappeared, I had a horrible thought: Wait! That’s a room that contains only boys aged 6-11!? What a terrible idea! Someone obviously skipped reading “Lord of the Flies” in high school! What kind of place is this? I shouldn’t be worried about them taking too long, I should be happy if they make it out alive. I DID read “Lord of the Flies.”
Adrian and I showered, dressed, and waited…and waited….and waited…and as suspected, Stephen and A failed to appear. I opened the boys’ locker room door. The eternal problem for a mom of boys: the opposite gender parent problem. I’ll always be stuck on the wrong side of the door and have to brave naked men to find my sons.
“Stephen! A!! Where are you??” I yelled.
An older boy appeared. “Oh, you’re Stephen and A’s mom?” He asked.
He grinned. “They’re being bad! Very bad!”
“Really? What are they doing?” I asked.
“They’re just running around throwing stuff and fighting.”
“Can you go get them for me?”
“Sure,” he said, looking very pleased. He disappeared into the boy void. “Bad boys! Bad boys!” I heard from within, “Your mom is here! Ooooh! What now?” He broke into song: “Bad boys, bad boys, what-cha gonna do, what-cha gonna do when your momma comes for you, bad boys bad boys….”
The alleged “bad boys” eventually appeared, one fully dressed, and the other still dripping in his swimsuit.
“Guys!” I said, “Are you messing around in there?”
“Why aren’t you dressed? What have you been doing for the last 20 minutes?”
*shrugs and blank looks*
“Ok, whatever, look, it’s late and we need to go. So get back in there and GET DRESSED. Hurry up!”
They disappeared into the black hole.
Another boy appeared. “You are so cute!” He told Adrian. “So cute!” He assured me. I beamed, proud that Adrian was getting so much recognition.
“Oh, and your other boy? He slipped and banged his knees. He was crying a little.” He looked concerned.
“I’m sure he’s ok,” I said. “ARE YOU OK????” I yelled through the open door. “GUYS?? EVERYONE OK IN THERE????” Nothing. Oh, doomed to forever be the opposite gender parent.
Various boys streamed out and updated me on their progress.
“He got a sock on,” one informed me.
“Now he’s putting on his underwear,” another said.
“He was crying again about his knee.”
Finally….two dressed boys emerged. Everyone survived the adventure of the boys’ locker room, and we headed home.