Little Boys

While KT spent the Saturday working on the big problem of how to move to a different country without spending your life savings, I took the boys out and did some "guy stuff".  Very fun, but as a guy used to sitting at a computer most of the day and only getting up once every 3 hours or so to go to the bathroom, it was a little taxing.

Of course, there were extreme sports involved.  By the way, I want to draw your attention to the classic coat that Aaron's sportin.  An 80's classic, if there ever was one.  Apparently this was my coat as a kid, and my mom saved it for us.  It's pretty sweet!, I must've had a pretty keen fashion sense back then.  I don't know what's happen to me since.

Surprisingly, they really liked posing for pictures.  I know it's not the manliest of things, but it'll serve them well on their wedding day when custom forces them to parade a round in front of a photographer all day.  Aaron has been using our old camera, so he doesn't mind posing, then he makes us pose so that  he can get the same shot.

Again, a little posing.  It has been unseasonable warm here in Cleveland, and the plants are coming out much earlier than normal.  This little stretch of forest was just blanketed with these dense, low-lying plants.

What's manlier than yelling to the world how awesome you are?   

The term "guy stuff" must always at least partially refer to throwing rocks.  For the younglings and those of us not prone to vandalism, the desired target is water.  Water reacts explosively enough to make us feel like we are the sources of great, powerful destruction while keeping us out of jail.  If we are lucky, the target will never graduate to the much more satisfying but permanently destructive glass windows.

Oh, and while they were at it, Aaron had to stop for a second to call his "friend dog Bester" and let him know that rocks were being thrown.  I think Bester even got a heartfelt invitation to join in the fun, but as far as I know it was never accepted.

What would be a good rock throwing session without a stick that resembled something more useful?  For one of the first times in little boy history, said stick was not mistaken for a gun and used to shoot up close family members.  This one was a merely a peaceable hammer.  

Another sign of a good time is the betterment of their honorable fencing skills through a little friendly sparring.  Someday, they will have grand duels to the death over fair maidens and insults to their honer, and they'll sure be glad that they wisely trained for the future during these early years.  

Finally, when the jousting mood elevates and the battle becomes rather heated, the inevitability of someone "losing an eye" leads to the tyrannical confiscation of all weapons by the reigning authority.  With no weapons of less-than-mass destruction at hand, the little ones turn to the more intimate, albeit archaic, mode of dispute-settling originating from their early ancestors: wrestling.  One recent evolution in their carrying out of this activity involves new goal beyond just expending pent-up little boy energy: winning.  They are now strenuously striving to be the victor on top, which requires them to shame their opponent by "riding him like a pony."  The humiliated loser must endure this barbaric practice of being diminished to a mere beast of burden.

I secretly hope that this mode of taunting endures the maturation process and becomes a part of their adult personas.  I can picture Aaron someday in a crowded conference room full of men and women smartly dressed in their business attire.  Aaron and his team has just won out the bid for the years biggest account over Johnson's team, and everyone is celebrating.  As Johnson turns to leave the boardroom with heavy hands and his head held low, Aaron suddenly solidifies his victory by jumping on Johnson's back, and yelling "I ride you like a pony".  Glorious!