We had some friends over for Labor Day and their three-year old daughter said, “Why don’t you have any pink things in your house?” I replied, “Its just a bunch of boys around here.” She looked at me very sympathetically and went back to playing. What she noticed is quite true…there isn’t much pink in this house full of male rascals. In fact, I live in a home of super-boys.
At the rugby game last week, Drew made some new friends, two little guys about his age. I watched him go over to them and ask them to play. One little boy asked what they would play, Drew responded, “Let’s tackle!” So the boy took off running and Drew proceeded to chase him down, pull him down, and then roll around together in the dirt. Both were screaming with glee. Boy games…I don’t get it.
The least ornery member of this herd is Isaac, who has yet to do or say much. Sometimes he has a little smile on his face and twinkle in his eyes that makes me think he is scheming about something. I’m faced with the reality that given the male influences in his life, he too will be “all boy” as they say.