For The Someday Book

Boy noises have arrived in our house. B is three years, three months old, and apparently that’s how long it takes. Race cars now go “rrrrrrrr” when they drive. Dinosaurs “aaawwp” and squeal. Trucks beep when they back up and “vrrrrooom” when they go forward. Monsters growl and hiss and roar. Toys talk with funny voices–deep and gravelly, high-pitched and shrill, low and even.

I call these “boy noises” because I’ve never been good at making them, nor have I ever really seen the point. I always played with boys as a kid, and I loved my Hot Wheels and Star Wars and even a little G.I. Joe. But I could never do the noises the way the boys could. It always made my throat tickle and my mouth dry and my voice tired, and making noises with my mouth did not seem to make the play more fun. So I never bothered.

J can do the noises without a hitch, and with a great flair and variety much broader than mine ever was. Now B can too. It’s a lot louder in his room these days, with both of them grrrring and vrrroooming. Boy noises are here to stay.

It must be genetic, on the Y chromosome.