With 3 boys under 6, Buggy Blogger mum to J (5), B (3) and S (1) certainly has her hands full. So does B this week as he says “howdy” to hormones.

Well it's back to school with a bang. Or a bump and a couple of ouches to be precise.

J got stung in the ear on the first day of term (ouch!). Finally-walking S misjudged his headroom standing up under an inconveniently-located chair (ow!). And B's developed inner-thigh chafing doing the school run on his new Like-a-Bike (oooh, sharp intake of breath!). Maybe that’s why he's started walking like a cowboy?

In fact, Clint would be proud. B's now got a bow-legged gait, a healthy obsession with horses (especially in birthday cake format) and a love of hunting down and trussing up moving targets … usually small brothers. All we need to work out now is how to attach spurs to his much-loved wellies and he’d be all set for an epic noughties cinematic remake: The Good, the Bad and the One in Start-Rite Boots.

Spaghetti Western aspirations aside, my hunch is this walking-the-walk thing is actually more to do with a sudden testosterone rush. Out of the blue B's suddenly erupted into explosive high spirits. He jumps on any excuse to wrestle his big brother to the ground, he zooms about at break-neck speed on his bike and he roars around (and up and down) the playground with astonishing vigour. This is a boy being classically boisterousness (as opposed to girlsterous).

On top of this boundless energy, B's emotional behaviour also seems hormonally charged. He's prone to fierce fits of pique, he blows rebellious raspberries when addressed and engages in defiant answering-back episodes. Admittedly his strongest retort is usually a loud and gusty 'Mr Poo Poo!' interspersed with the odd 'Mr Pear Pear'. Not exactly top of the shocks … yet … but how long have I got left before Mr Pear Pear morphs into Mr Swear Swear…?

Reassuringly, friends with older boys inform me that these testosterone bursts not only become more frequent and but also more intense. Great! I fear for what this means for B’s ability to do worthwhile things with his hands like learn to write, use cutlery effectively or draw a recognisable picture. He already spends an unhealthy amount of time with his hands down his trousers. A few years on, and will his hands ever see any daylight … or will they always be stuck in the murk of whey-hey-hey-light?

While we leave B busy with his hands, S I'm proud to say is making rapid progress with his feet. At last walking, this summer's seen him tottering tentatively … and then ambling gleefully around in all directions. I would say there's no stopping him but that’d be a lie as every now and then an interfering older brother contrives to get in his way. Sometimes with imaginary lassoes or trusty steed Like-A-Bikes.

Apart from sibling hazards though S is doing really well. Regardless of occasional tumbles or unscheduled head-banging incidents he continues to lurch happily along like a trooper. Nice approach sonny. I'd suggest you ignore that young gun with an Eastwood swagger and keep plugging along with your own North, South, East and Westward stagger.

Then before you know it you'll be running around like you’ve been doing it all your life. Like J now does the moment he hears the faintest inkling of a buzzing sound. Poor chap.

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