Boys eyes.
My mom used to use this phrase to describe the manner in which we were searching for things. “Are you looking with boys eyes?” she’d ask whenever we couldn’t find something. She’d give us more specific directions about where something was, usually to no avail. Inevitably, she’d end up walking to whatever room we were in and spend less than 5 seconds looking around before encountering said lost item. It exasperated her to no end. Boys' eyes seemed to have a shield that blocked an individual from seeing objects that were right in front of them. This morning my 4 year old climbed in bed with me and announced, “My belly’s hungry.” I put my fingers to my lips and we both slipped out of the bed. I stepped into my moccasins. “Where are my slippers?” Nathan asked. I started rifling through my recollections of yesterday. I remembered he and Adam putting them on in the morning and wearing them downstairs. At some point they both proclaimed they were hot, and four slippers were dropped off somewhere. We were upstairs in the afternoon, but I couldn’t remember if the slippers had accompanied us or not. “Go check in your room. I’ll close Adam’s door.” Nathan returned, empty handed. “They must be downstairs,” I whispered. Down we went. I immediately saw the missing slippers on the table in our living room, just on the other side of the entryway. I pointed, “There they are!” “Hold on, hold on. I need to go potty,” Nathan said, zipping toward the bathroom. I knew he wouldn’t find them on his way out, so I stayed put, adding shoes into the closet and tidying up a bit. Toilet flushed, hands washed, Nathan emerged. I pointed again. “They’re right here, bud. RIght on the table.” I pointed a third time and headed to the kitchen to start pancakes. 30 seconds passed. “Mommy, I can’t find them. They’re not on the table!” Nathan said from the dining room. “Honey, they’re not on that table. They’re on the the table by the coach. The one by the door.” The one I pointed to, I thought to myself.” “Oh!” he laughed and took off. 10 more seconds. “No. They’re not here.” I sighed. Boys eyes. I headed to the living room. There was Nathan, standing right next to the table in question. “Honey, they’re right here. Right on this table,” I said, pointing as I approached. “Where?” he asked again. This time, I chuckled to myself (which is not always the case, I’ll admit). I picked up the slippers. “Right here, buddy.” “Ha!” he laughed at himself. “I didn’t even see those!” Of course not. Because he was looking with boys eyes. To be fair, my mom used this term for us girls too. But the phrase most definitely originated with my brothers. It probably should be dubbed mom’s eyes versus any other kind of eyes. But for me, the question, “Are you looking with boys’ eyes?” will forever drift through my mind every time my kids are 2 feet from an object, adamant they can’t find it because the item isn’t there.
3 Comments
ADRIENNE GILLESPIE
3/29/2020 03:49:17 pm
When we are isolated from family, so many things make us think about the people we can't be near. My mom passed away almost two years ago. There are certain phrases that, when I hear or say them, make me think about her. Sometimes, I get weepy, but mostly, I laugh.
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Susan Dillon
3/29/2020 06:15:45 pm
Looks like your boys are going to make great husbands some day!
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