Last night was my night for carpool. I started the evening shuttling Claire and three of her friends to dance. I ended the evening driving Lucas and four other smelly hockey players to and from practice.

Did you know there is a difference between boys and girls? No, seriously there’s a difference and BIG difference.

I drove four girls to dance class and on our travels I listened to the girls talk and talk and talk. They talked about boys, school, grades, teachers and whatever else popped into their brains. They sang silly songs and giggled. I heard some huffing when one of the girls wanted to talk and someone started talking over her. I saw eyes being rolled when the irritation grew. But they were, for the most part, kind to one another. The girls crack me up when we are in the TRVLN ZU. There are times when I love listening to their chatter, last night was one of those nights.

As soon as the dance girls were dropped off it was time to pick up the hockey boys.

I loaded four boys into the van and headed off to the rink. It was a much different trip. The boys played the punching game. They yelled. They yelled more. They yelled over each other to be heard. I couldn’t yell loud enough to be heard so I just shook my head, repeatedly. I dumped them at the rink and ran to get some dinner for myself and a little later, for the boys. When I went back to the rink for pick up duties, I loaded five stinky hockey boys, gear and all, into the van and started for home. Dinner was distributed and their consumption of food kept the volumn down, just slightly.

As we rolled home, I listened as the boys traded barbs, made fun of each other and were, for the most part boys. I was treated to stories of body functions…what happens when you get sick from both ends. I listened to one of the boys say “oh, my area is vibrating…” over and over and over ~ every time he got a text. I heard the boys bust on each other about girls. The boys played five star on the way home. That’s the lovely game where boys smack someone else as hard as they can, usually the back, with their hand open so it leaves a giant red mark in the shape of their hands…five star. Either the boys forgot I was there or they were trying to impress me with their 13 year old boy banter. Whatever the case was, they didn’t ebd up impressing me with their “machismo.”

My carpools last night couldn’t have been bigger polar opposites. The things the boys said to each other was…well, it wasn’t sugar and spice and everything nice. The things that came out of the mouths of the boys was snakes and snails and puppy dog tails. I wouldn’t change a thing about either carpool. They were both vastly entertaining just completely different.

Oh, for the love of my children…