I’m a boy mom. I’ve never bought a frilly Easter dress, white patent leather shoes, or anything from the American Girl catalog. I’ve never substituted a pink feather boa for Easter grass in a basket. I’ve arranged Easter treats in the bed of Tonka trucks and in potty chairs. I can’t resist adding something cute to the mix, though, and this year it was an adorable little stuffed monkey for each boy.
I think he’s calling the monkey Ah-nold. And I suspect jelly bean grenades are involved.