On Being Boys

After yesterday's musings on girlfriends, I gave some thought to those people living in my house who came from that other planet. Planet boy.

I don't have any brothers, didn't grow up in the company of boy cousins, and never really had any boys as friends, so I suppose boys were somewhat of a mystery to me. I didn't actually recognize this until I married one, and Mr. Mysterious threw me for a loop.....or twelve. Only after some careful listening during time spent with my newly married girlfriends was I relieved to find out that being "communication-ally challenged" appeared to be a gender issue rather than an isolated incident, and that my man wasn't the only one with an over-zealous attachment to his remote control. Then, I gave birth to not one, but TWO mini-mysteries. I'll never forget the day the words "You're having a boy!" fell from the sonogram technician's mouth and crashed confusingly into my ears.

A what? Are you sure? But I don't know anything about sports. How is this ever going to work?

But work it did. I suspect God had a plan after all. Imagine that. I recently read an interesting description of the word "love". In William Young's book The Shack, he describes love as the skin that covers knowing. As your knowing of someone increases, the love you have for them expands. I fell in love with my oldest son the minute the nurse handed him to me. As any new mother could attest, you just can't imagine loving them any more than in that very first moment. But then the growing begins, and with it, the knowing. I'm madly in love with my resident boys...boy crazy I guess you could call it... and I think I've even unraveled a few of the mysteries over the years....

Little boys? They don't need toys. They just need nature, and a few tools. They can spend hours on the driveway in the sweltering summer heat whittling sticks with pocket knives or crushing rocks into crudely formed arrow heads. And heaven help the beetle that happens by, because he is destined for many unpleasant hours trapped inside a margarine container. "Swimming" is just slang for holding each other under water and wrestling. Hunger is a state of being, and the hollow leg syndrome stays with them for many years. And the remote control issues? It appears they are innate, and they begin at a horrifyingly young age.

Here's what else I know about boys. Nothing melts a mother's heart like the tender side of a tough little guy, and nothing touches the heart of a wife like the kindness of a loving husband. Oh, the many, many blessings that come to us all the way from Planet Boy.