Last night, the differences between little boys and little girls was made clear and evident by WHAT each of them thinks about.

Small girls tend to think about Barbies and unicorns and bedazzled rainbows.

Small boys tend to think about projectile puking, light saber battles, and horse hooves being pulverized into dust and added as an ingredient to orange Jell-O at the factory.

This morning, I realized that these differences continue with us all, well into adulthood. The male brain, simply put, is wired with a different blueprint plan than the female brain. I’m sure the good Lord had his reasons for doing this, but I don’t understand them yet. While getting ready this morning, I complained that my mascara was too clumpy, that my shirt sleeve wasn’t fully ironed, that my shoes didn’t coordinate with anything that I was wearing, and that my hair was entirely all wrong. Just wrong, people. I used the flat iron to achieve flatness, and then, low! It was just too flat, and no amount of aerosol hairspray was going to revive its volume. I think that all women are like this. We get ready in the mornings, and we see our flaws. Magnified. I’m not saying that it’s a good thing, but it’s often exactly how it is.

Hubs, on the other hand, returned to the bathroom this morning after having dressed himself, combed his hair, grinned and said, “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.” And then he sort of flexed in front of the mirror, and left.

What is a wife supposed to do with that?

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