On becoming a man…

I was in the master bathroom this morning clipping my son’s nails.  (Side note: I hate the term “master” anything.  It makes it sound like someone is walking around with a riding crop in our house.  Which is very definitely NOT what someone is doing.)

He’s almost nine.  Is that too old to still be clipping his nails?  It’s just that I’m loathe to give him a sharp instrument and cut him loose (get it?!  “cut”??  hardy har har), since this is the same boy who made us all suffer through THREE YEARS of chaotic, horrific Cubscouts all on the single promise of a penknife when he became a Boyscout.  (btw – I didn’t promise him the penknife.  The ScoutMASTER promised him the penknife.  Stupid, stupid ScoutMASTER.  Where’s a riding crop when you need it?!?  The man should have known better.  Because my son-who-is-mostly-monkey would “accidentally” cut off all of his fingers AND everyone else’s if he had a penknife.  So he will never GET a penknife.  Ever.  Unless we leave it as a parting gift with his college roommate, to give to him later, after we’re done dropping him off at school and are long gone.  His senior year.).

So…I’m clipping my son’s nails and my husband turns around from the sink and he says, “If someone asked you to show them your nails, Sonny, what would you do?”  And Sonny promptly holds up his hands in a cute kitty-paws-under-his-chin move.

Aaaaaaah!  (and how random is THAT question?  Because why, WHY would ANYONE ever even be asking him to show them his nails??)

While I’m hugging my lil’ guy for being super cute, my husband says, “No, no, no.  If a wrestling ref ever asked to see your nails [you need short nails to wrestle and the ref can periodically do a nail check – mystery solved] you would show your nails to him like this…”and my husband holds his hands at waist-level, palms up, with all fingers bent inwards so all his nails are visible – including the ones on his opposable thumbs.  He looks oddly like a gorilla gingerly cupping a sip of water in each paw.

And THAT, my son, is how you become a man.

For women?  It’s a teeeeensy bit harder than that.

One thought on “On becoming a man…

  1. Pingback: Order ON the court! | New Stay at Home Mom

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