Cucumbers are not guns...and other realities of 2-year-old boys

Boys are different. I never really truly appreciated how much so until I had one.

My daughter, oh, she was easy when she was little. No tantrums, mild temperment, generally behaved in public. My son, he's an independent spirit. Fiercely so. He drenches himself in the baptimsal font each Sunday, and he's dripping wet despite my best attempts by the time the readings are done. He has one speed: Fast. And he knows what he wants. So much so that people recognize me by my son's wail.

So I should only have guessed that those same everyday activities I do with my daughter would take on its own bent with my son. Farmers market? It's only been in the last week that he hasn't melted down the minute we stepped outside. Nevermind that I'm constantly putting things back like the "balls" - melons or gourds - he finds or alleviated bruised egos on the days there aren't apples for sale.

And yes, this week, I uttered words I never imagined:

"Honey, cucumbers are not guns."

And he agreed, instead munching on it like an ear of corn.

Or when we garden, which should really mean creating mud puddles and soaking mommy with the hose while he cackles hysterically. Take last Thursday, when we grabbed some peas from the garden. He eagerly ripped the first few off the vines, then went to play with his toys. A few minutes later, I noticed he was grabbing the peas out of my bowl...and throwing them on his teeter totter. Repeatedly. Good thing those things can wash!

What are some of the quirkier things you've had to endure with your kids?