All I knew before having boys could be summed up in one word: NOTHING. 

Unaware of just how hardwired little boys are for epic household disasters and bodily maladies, all of which are fueled by a seemingly never-empty tank of childhood gas (the fart kind too), I naively assumed it would be all snips and snails and puppy dog tails. Snips and snails and puppy dog tails? What the hell does that even mean? It’s more like bruises and farts and Nerf Gun darts. Why didn’t anyone tell me?

1 | Evidently, getting hit in their private parts really, REALLY hurts.

All those cheap shots to a boy’s nether regions I always saw on TV – the ones that brought grown men to their knees – are actually a thing. Protect the “house” at all costs.