When I was about 18 or so, I was pretty set in the fact that I didn't want kids. Kids didn't seem to like me and in turn they just made me nervous. I lamented that if I was unfortunate enough to find myself in a compromising position, I had better have a girl and she would be an only child. End. Of. Story.
Except it wasn't the end of the story. By the time I was 23, I had two handsome sons. Rowdy boys, rough and tumble, and so foreign to anything I had ever known. I myself was an only child. I never changed a diaper until the Monster was born. Never having been around little boys, the things they do and love, baffles me at times. Worms? Yeah. They love playing with worms. Trucks? Their affection for all things that go seemed to be ingrained at birth. Dirt? You betcha. Send one perfectly clean set of brothers outside to swing and here is what you get. Cashman always manages to one up his brother in the getting filthy department. I just think that dirt holds a very extra special place in his heart. Whereas the Monster reserves that special place for backtalking his mother.