Saturday, August 20, 2005

Reason #Four: Because He's Such a Little Boy!

Honestly, he acts just like a ten-year-old boy sometimes!

If you are at all familiar with the qualities of a ten-year-old, you know that words like "brat" come to mind immediately. On one hand, there is still a sweet boyishness, with their tousled hair, freckled faces, and sweet baby cheeks. On the other hand, their eyes are usually gleaming with orneriness, and an impish grin resides permanantly between those baby cheeks. Oh, the language that erupts from those innocent little mouths during the prepubescent years! Everything from insults to swear words comes flying out at least once, and then ever so carefully the limits are tested. How much back-talk will mom, dad, or teacher put up with before the boundaries are slammed down with gale force? It's like the secret pact of every ten-year-old to annoy and frustrate their siblings to tears, to antagonize and goad their parents to the point of explosion, and to just flat-out wear everybody out with their annoying antics!

My son is now twelve years old. Some of the best father-son bonding times have occurred between "Ben" (nickname) and his dad in the last two years. There have been the usual sports, fishing, and hunting activities. But the most fun they ever had together was watching "stupid videos" on TV or the web, and laughing together. Why is it that noises that are made by bodily emissions and jokes pertaining to body parts can be so hilariously funny to a boy and his dad? They tell each other the same old jokes that he heard when he was a kid, concerning the girth of "yo momma" and they roar with laughter every time!

I could go on and on about how similar men and boys are, except for the price of their toys, but you already know. Men are just big boys!

I see a tender boyishness in my darling husband at some of the oddest moments. I have a personal window into his vulnerability that no other person on earth has. He can make me want to kiss his sweet cheeks one moment and slap them hard the very next!

It must be a gift that comes with motherhood, that nurturing instinct, that fierce protectiveness. He may be a real pest, a royal brat--but he is mine, and I love him!

It is a special privilege to see the inner child so plainly in someone dear to me. Lord, help me to deal with him tenderly, and not be so tempted to slap the snot out of him at times!