To my son, on his seventh birthday: Mamas of Boys



Mamas of boys know the difference between a Velociraptor and a Deinonychus. We can argue Spidey versus Batman like an eighteen year old comic book geek. We stand on the sidelines, cheering the goal kickers and hydrating the bench warmers. We never walk, we run.


Mamas of boys hang out in skate parks. Our cars are full of burger wrappers and day-old banana skins. We’ve learnt to look out for Lego on those midnight toilet trips, and there are always dirty boots at the front door.


Mamas of boys ride bikes to school and run alongside scooters. We are forever wiping muddy footprints off newly mopped floors and finding boogies on the walls. And under chairs. And on doors…


Mamas of boys know every Knock Knock joke around, and how say “Aaarrrrrghhhh” exactly like a pirate. We’re great at animal imitations and ignoring loud belch sounds on car trips. Or any trips, really. We accept that the fridge door will never stay shut for longer than a minute, nor the toilet seat stay down. But we wouldn’t change a single thing us Mamas of boys, because we know that little boys make our house a home.

Natasha Wilson is a mother of three wild babies, an avid crafter and self-confessed hoarder. You’ll find her over at the online craft and parenting website,