Battleship! BOOM! My missile sunk your ship!
Nate had an obsession with the Medieval Age for awhile, especially the jousts, archery, catapults, and fencing. Now he is obsessed with Star Wars because he can wield a light saber.
Boys.
Girls.
The difference between the two debated in the halls of education. This Mom knows first hand that there are differences! It doesn't take a college degree to figure this out. I have had several discussions recently with two very different, young mothers who have two very different little boys. But, for some reason, these two little boys share a strange fascination for anything that shoots, fires, or blows something up. hehe.
Girls.
The difference between the two debated in the halls of education. This Mom knows first hand that there are differences! It doesn't take a college degree to figure this out. I have had several discussions recently with two very different, young mothers who have two very different little boys. But, for some reason, these two little boys share a strange fascination for anything that shoots, fires, or blows something up. hehe.
Ah, yes. The stages of parenting. That ideal( whatever it may be) that is held onto by the new parent. The statement, "No child of mine will ever________." I just have to laugh whenever I hear stuff like that. I laugh at myself, as well.
I shared with these younger mommys my own stories of raising my son.
When we found out that we were to have a boy, I determined( in my naivety) early on that no boy of mine would ever be allowed to wield any piece of weaponry. I was horrified by mothers who allowed their little boys to point sticks at their little friends and pretend to shoot them. I mean, what kind of parent would ever allow such a thing!!? Right?
Sigh. Now that I have had my son lo these nearly thirteen years, I have come to realize that it's out of my hands. And how did I come to this? Well, I spent the first three or four years of his life not allowing toy guns into the house. And so my little boy started building guns out of mega blocks. I stopped it. He started drawing them. I stopped him. He automatically pointed his little finger at things and made the sounds of gunfire. I told him that wasn't nice. By age five, He built wonderfully imaginative forts out his lincoln logs, and you guessed it, prepared for war. I had discussions with him about how mean it looked and sounded. He soberly( as sober as a little boy can be) agreed with me. I made a rule. Isn't that what good parents do? "No guns". My sweet little guy humored me. I didn't hear gun noises emanating from his room for some time. It wasn't long before I started hearing other noises. Guess what? My beautiful, loving son had taken up arms yet again. But he stayed obedient. He had now gone to sword play. I firmly, made another rule. "No weaponry of any kind!" My husband tried to hide his smirk. He pretty much knew what would happen, having been a little boy once. But like any good Husband and Daddy, supported Mommy. He agreed with me about the safety issues involved. I mean, what if our little guy had the chance in some off moment of parental unawareness, to pick up a real gun?
And so to make a long story a bit longer, one day my little guy was playing with his sister. The sister was meticulously setting up her doll house. She was asking his opinion on whether the little plastic couch should go by the window or against the wall and so forth. He was being so patient and giving his opinions in a kind manner while boyishly playing with the little people on a toy train in the back yard of the dollhouse. I was pleased. My daughter finally had her house set up just so. My son looked around, sure that Mommy wasn't paying attention, and yelled, "EARTHQUAKE!" and then proceeded to shake the dollhouse, completely ruining all her work. The difference between boys and girls glared brightly. I have to laugh now, but at the time, I was upset. He was punished. The day went on, my son once again playing nicely with his sister. After awhile, I checked on him again. He was playing with a Barbie. Some intellectuals would say that that is because there in no difference between boys and girls. That boys, with stereotypes removed and given the opportunity, will play with dolls and enjoy it as much as his trucks. Ah, but the rest of the story remains to be told. He had grabbed the doll, stripped it, and was using her as a sword! The head of the Barbie in his little fist, he was wielding it at some imaginary foe, making horrible slashing clanging noises along with the sounds of the dying. It was this incident that made me throw up my hands in defeat. My dear husband gently told me that boys will be boys.
And they will be. We can raise them to be kind and loving, but God has a special purpose for boys and men. And that's just the way it is.
So, as of today, my son has owned GI joes with guns in hand, transformers with flying missiles, army men, cowboys and Indians, one BB gun, a recurve bow with arrows and special feathers( I know there is some special term for that, but forgive me for not being able to recall it at the moment), way too many nerf guns and plastic swords to count, and nerf ball blasters.
"What kind of parent...!" my young friends sigh, shaking their heads in mortification. I just have to laugh.
When we found out that we were to have a boy, I determined( in my naivety) early on that no boy of mine would ever be allowed to wield any piece of weaponry. I was horrified by mothers who allowed their little boys to point sticks at their little friends and pretend to shoot them. I mean, what kind of parent would ever allow such a thing!!? Right?
Sigh. Now that I have had my son lo these nearly thirteen years, I have come to realize that it's out of my hands. And how did I come to this? Well, I spent the first three or four years of his life not allowing toy guns into the house. And so my little boy started building guns out of mega blocks. I stopped it. He started drawing them. I stopped him. He automatically pointed his little finger at things and made the sounds of gunfire. I told him that wasn't nice. By age five, He built wonderfully imaginative forts out his lincoln logs, and you guessed it, prepared for war. I had discussions with him about how mean it looked and sounded. He soberly( as sober as a little boy can be) agreed with me. I made a rule. Isn't that what good parents do? "No guns". My sweet little guy humored me. I didn't hear gun noises emanating from his room for some time. It wasn't long before I started hearing other noises. Guess what? My beautiful, loving son had taken up arms yet again. But he stayed obedient. He had now gone to sword play. I firmly, made another rule. "No weaponry of any kind!" My husband tried to hide his smirk. He pretty much knew what would happen, having been a little boy once. But like any good Husband and Daddy, supported Mommy. He agreed with me about the safety issues involved. I mean, what if our little guy had the chance in some off moment of parental unawareness, to pick up a real gun?
And so to make a long story a bit longer, one day my little guy was playing with his sister. The sister was meticulously setting up her doll house. She was asking his opinion on whether the little plastic couch should go by the window or against the wall and so forth. He was being so patient and giving his opinions in a kind manner while boyishly playing with the little people on a toy train in the back yard of the dollhouse. I was pleased. My daughter finally had her house set up just so. My son looked around, sure that Mommy wasn't paying attention, and yelled, "EARTHQUAKE!" and then proceeded to shake the dollhouse, completely ruining all her work. The difference between boys and girls glared brightly. I have to laugh now, but at the time, I was upset. He was punished. The day went on, my son once again playing nicely with his sister. After awhile, I checked on him again. He was playing with a Barbie. Some intellectuals would say that that is because there in no difference between boys and girls. That boys, with stereotypes removed and given the opportunity, will play with dolls and enjoy it as much as his trucks. Ah, but the rest of the story remains to be told. He had grabbed the doll, stripped it, and was using her as a sword! The head of the Barbie in his little fist, he was wielding it at some imaginary foe, making horrible slashing clanging noises along with the sounds of the dying. It was this incident that made me throw up my hands in defeat. My dear husband gently told me that boys will be boys.
And they will be. We can raise them to be kind and loving, but God has a special purpose for boys and men. And that's just the way it is.
So, as of today, my son has owned GI joes with guns in hand, transformers with flying missiles, army men, cowboys and Indians, one BB gun, a recurve bow with arrows and special feathers( I know there is some special term for that, but forgive me for not being able to recall it at the moment), way too many nerf guns and plastic swords to count, and nerf ball blasters.
"What kind of parent...!" my young friends sigh, shaking their heads in mortification. I just have to laugh.
So, now that I have relaxed that long ago rule and have had time to see the results, has my son grown insensitive and mean?
NO!
No!
No! Take heart, all you Mommy's! Boys are boys. God made them to be different than girls. You really wouldn't want it any other way. But since I know that people don't necessarily take my word for it, check out Dr. James Dodson's book Bringing up Boys. Very good reading!
This last pic, by the way, is my wonderful boy snuggling with his little cousin while blowing something up in his Star Wars game. ;)
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