While feeding my grandson today I had a realization that explains the eternal mystery of why men are seemingly incapable of understanding women. In some ways that Freudian maxim about everything going back to your mother may be pretty accurate after all. At least where my theory is concerned. No. No. No. It has nothing to do with potty training. That's a whole new list of issues that I won't dwell on here.
It happens like this: For the first few years of our lives women pat us on our backs and encourage us to belch after we eat. They even praise us for it when we do. Good, baby! Good burpies!
And then, all of a sudden, for the rest of our lives they berate us whenever we belch and call us ill-mannered pigs.
Is it any wonder we spend our lives conflicted and unsure of where we stand with the opposite sex?
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