little boys Archives - Circles in the SandCircles in the Sand

For the past two years, we’ve been car-pooling with a French family to get Son2 home from school. Our son, and their son – let’s call him M – quickly became firm friends, and despite not being in the same class anymore, the boys’ friendship remains as strong as ever.

This makes for some loud banter in the car – which I tune in and out of, depending on what the subject matter is, like you would when listening to incessant chatter on the radio. Today, the boys were discussing their dads, who both fly the same aircraft (the A380 superjumbo), and I noticed some rather competitive one-upmanship going on.

Son2 picks up a toy plane lying on the back seat. “My daddy flies a big airplane, “ he says, proudly.

“My daddy’s airplane’s bigger,” counters M, raising the stakes considerably.

“Well, my daddy flies a double-decker airplane, that goes fast. Like this….WHOOOOOOSH,” says Son2, whizzing the toy jet through the air.

The monster-plane – overweight but fast!

“My daddy’s airplane is super-big, and it goes super-fast!” replies M, injecting as much ‘wow’ factor into his voice as possible. “Faster than your daddy’s.”

Remember, they’re talking about the same aircraft here.

I glance in the mirror and see that Son2’s face is a study in not-to-be-outdone affrontedness. It isn’t one of his normal faces; it’s like he’s picked it up from somewhere and is trying it on for size.

Son2’s hand then turns into a blur of motion as he illustrates high speed, and out of his sweet mouth comes an effortless – and blatant – lie. “Well, my daddy flies the Blackbird.”

“WHOOOOOOSH,” he adds, for effect.

Little boys – always comparing!

I’ve realised that being a binational family, living in a country in which none of us was born, means Mother’s Day can go three ways.

Our surname is Lebanese, because that’s where DH’s family is originally from. DH is an American citizen and I’m from the UK. This all melts down into two kids who hold both US and British passports.

DH is really keen that the kids know they’re American and learn about American traditions, while I teach them all the British bits – Bonfire night, royal weddings, CBeebies, etc (in case you’re wondering, they have British accents and call ‘erasers’ ‘rubbers’!)

Since leaving the States, I've become mummy rather than mommy. They call pants 'trousers' now, but still say 'awesome' all the time!

When it comes to Mother’s Day, we’re a bit confused because DH has, for his whole life, observed American Mother’s Day, held each year on the second Sunday of May. I lean towards the British one (Sunday just gone) and then yesterday (Wednesday 21st) it was the UAE’s turn to celebrate mothers.

The result is it either all gets a bit diluted – or you can spin it out and spend a whole week doing Mother’s Day activities. At LB’s nursery, they made cards and roses out of tissue paper on Sunday, while BB’s school held a special picnic and sing-song for the mums yesterday.

Although the boys probably have no clue which day is actually ‘our’ Mother’s Day, they are being particularly affectionate at the moment, and as I’ve been feeling guilty that I’ve given them a bit of a bad press lately, I thought I’d elaborate.

“I lub you,” says LB, every 20 minutes or so – his deep brown eyes scanning my face and his little mouth breaking out into a grin the moment I return the sentiment.

His older brother, not to be outdone, notices every time my hair looks different or I’m wearing something new and always says something nice. They might be wrestling on the floor two minutes later or getting into some kind of mischief, but their loving ways bowl me over.

I know one day they’ll have wives who are the centre of their world (and you might remember that I already share BB’s affections with Girl Next Door), but for now I’m basking in their attention.

“I love you to the moon and back, round the sun a thousand times and all the way round the universe,” BB told me the other day.

“And all the way to Girl Next Door’s house and back,” he finished.