Thursday, February 23, 2012

Boys will be Boys

"Hey mom, have you ever eaten a scab?"

And so my night began.  There is a distinct difference between boys and girls from birth, obviously defined by the first rhyme we learned as a kid:  sugar and spice and all things nice, that's what girls are made of.  sticks and snails and puppy dog tails, that's what boys are made of.  I think that's how it goes - I can't remember yesterday so I may have part of it wrong.

I can tell you this for certain:  my mom never thought I was made of sugar and spice and all things nice.  I'm pretty certain of it.  I think I was more a half-breed as a kid.  Much more boy than girl.  I guess that's not that far off from today either.

Little guy is ALL boy.  He loves to get dirty.  He doesn't care when snow is packed inside his gloves (if he even has them on).  He refuses to wear "fancy pants" (aka, church clothes, or khakis to those that don't know either terms) to school.  He doesn't like girls (at least tells me he doesn't but I happened to learn a different story the other day from one of his friends).  He likes any single sport on the planet, even those he has never played before.  He wants to know how everything works, how it was built and what it's function is in life.  And he wants to know if I have ever eaten a scab.

Ah, the simple life.  No bra straps.  No menstrual cycles.  No girl angst triangle dramas where one friend gets left out in the lunchroom.  No BOY drama, thank god.  As hubs always says, we have ONE boy to worry about.  Our friends with girls have ALL of the boys to worry about.  So true.

When I got home yesterday, I asked little guy to take a run with me.  He is a great runner but completely different than me - he really is a sprinter.  He is accustomed to running short distances (except when he breaks loose on the football field and returns a kick for 80 yards).  Basketball, baseball... even soccer have him running short bursts, all out.  It's no surprise that our run looked exactly the same.

We took out and I told him to take it slow and steady.  Consistent.  We would be out there awhile, no racing necessary.  Of course he asked if I would sprint against him when we got closer to home on our way back.  Sure buddy, I'll let you smoke me.  Two blocks away, he was walking.  Mind you his walk was pretty much as fast as my running, but he was walking nonetheless.  I asked him if anything hurt, was he out of breath?  Nope, just "taking a break".  Awesome.

By a mile in, he had succombed completely to walking.  We were on our trail by then so I told him to catch up to me by the end, I needed to keep moving.  So much for motivating ME!  Mid-trail he had caught up and I told him we were running all the way back home.

He looked like a car that stalls.  Forward movement.  Halt.  Forward movement.  Halt.  I had whiplash just watching him.

A block away from our house, I turned it up and started striding out.  He was gone in a flash, I couldn't even get near keeping up with him.  Only because he walked and reserved his strength, I'm sure. 

When we entered the house he asked for a protein shake.  He was just worn out.  What a great run, mom!

Ah, boys.  Gotta love 'em!


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