Once when we were baby boys

All children learn to pronounce their first vowels a e i o u, courtesy of women. Women derive a great deal of pleasure in bathing us. Raising us is taken as part of their God given duties. Our mothers take optimum care during the cause of moulding, scalping and shaping us. All in all, it’s amazing how women juggle their chores with the task of spoiling us. These ‘homes’ referred to as women witnesses the growth of our small penis. Infant our private parts see the light of the day through zealous tendering hands of women, as they ensure that we are properly washed. Mothers become the points of reference for a boy child during formative years.

Clearly, the love, nurturing, given to children or babies surpasses the imagination. Our mother’s do whatever in the face of sometimes excruciating circumstances to bombard us with love. In other situations women, see their men abdicating their responsibilities. With some setting coming alive with the debilitating poundings of men’s potent wreath. An unfortunate indictment where men would outright deny ever impregnating their girlfriends, wives etc. Our mom and sisters flap us on their laps and send us to sleep. At times, they proudly strap us on their backs, whilst performing punishing chores. As we take our naps, grow, play and scream, women guard us jealously like possessed vultures. Women prefer to put their lives on the line in the cause of our growth. Their eagle eyes and claws repel all forces – they ensure they pray for us. Their rooting to see us growing to be respected citizens, see them performing ritual on their babies.

By the way women carry us for nine months. Run to work, look after our siblings, and cook sumptuous meat. As the revolution of our growth takes place in the arable stomach. The experience heart – burns, Some of them give birth through ceasarean sections. Others come out of the maternity wards scared for life, with no soul to claim custody of the child. In such instances, the men would have preferred to take an easy way out – out of sight. Some women have top go a mile to prove paternity of their offspring. They smell of posit day in and day out as we turn them into. When our willies are full we release on top of them. We suckle their soft breast sometimes violently. Their soft and tender hands shape our destiny. Our mothers keep us warm