In The Wheelhouse
I've raised my boy to be a boy.
And I've enlisted his help in raising his baby brother to be a boy, too.
A boy's boy.
The kind of boy teachers try to androgynize because they simply don't understand that these little guys enjoy tackling and wrestling on the playground to build kinship.
Boys who don't whine and tattle if a favorite shirt accidentally gets ripped in the process.
I've encouraged this by letting him punch me, to express affection and appropriate frustration.
Yes, hard. Otherwise, there's no purpose.
This is easily tenable, particuarly if you save spankings for transgressions like, say, finding a loaded gun under a bed and playing with it rather than telling your parents.
There are only two rules:
No punching in the face.
No punching in the plums (which is a good rule for adults to follow, too).
The face rule is easy to enforce because he's not tall enough to reach a chin or an eye socket already swollen and bruised from Daddy's head-to-head collision the other night.
But the groin? Well, that's right in his wheelhouse.
There are countless things that make being 5 years old sublime.
One is the juxtaposition and unpredictability of affection. A "thank you" for hanging up a poster can come in the form of a misaligned punch in the exact wrong place or an unabashed, unrelenting, uninhibited, unsuspected hug that finds his big old Charlie Brown head resting right below the side of your ribs.
You never know which one's coming. I find myself folding in on myself when I see a any wave of emotion wash over him.
He usually just barely misses. Sometimes he doesn't.
The times he doesn't miss seem to come with the frustration.
For a while, he enjoyed calling people "Booty Head." That didn't go over well with his Mom. The best way to get a 5 year old to stop doing something is to adopt it yourself and hammer it so firmly into the ground that you've effectively beaten him into submission.
"Hey, Booty Head. Give these scraps to the dog."
"You can't play Madden 06 anymore today because you've played it all day. Booty Head."
"OK, OK. I won't call you Booty Head anymore, Booty Head."
And then the emotions wash over him.
And there's no use hesitating self-defense for a hug.
21 comments:
It is amazing how much fun the little men can be, isn't it.
It is also amazing how stong the 'boy' in a little boy can be.
it is, john. it so is.
mamalujo, i'm glad you mentioned that to me. i would say you are quite not the weak of stomach for raising two girls.
i always wanted boys. the biggest reason is that i'm absolutely frightened to have girls. i'm a pussy in that regard. i respect guys who embrace raising girls.
and in all this sort of macho posturing, i should probably point out that before any of this "making a boy" stuff, my first priority is to raise a good human being.
willing to be vulnerable. empathetic. definitely respect women in the same way he is required to treat his mother (and not treat women as weak, ie. can't play sports, be in positions of authority). i never try to stand in the way of the role my wife plays. she softens them. and i regularly kiss my boys. every day. whenever they'll let me.
i call my oldest boy "baby." not bubba or sport or bo. i tried, actually, because i though i should. but it wasn't natural. oftentimes, i call him "ace" (everybody does, actually) which sounds uber-macho, but his name's asa, so it's hard not to do.
i've taken lately to calling my 2 year old "slim." he's kind of a tall kid -- all torso -- and it makes it easier because both their names start with "a" (aden).
personally, i was a docile kid growing up. i grew up in a tough neighborhood, but i was too cerebral to fight. learning to raise a boy was not completely natural, but by the time asa was born, i had become tougher.
only in the past decade or so have i embraced a different personality. i do feel more complete (yet, the way i hold a drink, eat dinner, walk ... i look quasi-effeminate).
my ideal vision for my sons, say, in high school would be for them to be the quarterback on the football team and a regular actor in the drama club.
of course, there are elements that are quite steadfast in the boy/man department. i'm not afraid to pick on my children. my sons inherited from me rather large heads.
when my oldest son's head is blocking the television, i'll say something like "asa, get that big ole wrecking ball head out of the way."
he said the other night, "dad, you're always telling me to get my big head out of the way."
i'll say, "yes, because you've got a big head ... like me."
i should have said, "because you've got a big booty head, booty head." ;)
thanks for sharing.
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Aw.
You know, I think I have a lot in common with your son. I seem to catch my husband in the good places myself...and we're pretty sure that I'm not getting any taller any time soon.
definitely one rule of life is you never sock a guy in the plums
jay, that's funny. because my wife probably stays away from that because she wants more kids. maybe i should get her to punch me there. ;)
simon, that is a great word for that. never heard of it. so much more civilized. well, you are a brit.
i don't like "nuts." nor "family jewels" (sounds trashy). especially not "testicles" (sounds like some disgusting slug or something.
i think i'll go back and substitute that.
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When I learned my first child was a girl, I panicked a bit. I'm a total tomboy, I don't know the finer shades of lip gloss, and don't ask me about how to give a pedicure.
But now, with three girls in tow, I can't see it any other way. I raise them like I was raised to a point, and raise them the rest of the package the way I wanted to be raised.
Which, I think, is what we all try, whether they're boys or girls. And you seem to be doing a fine job of it.
BTW, we use the term "kinickies." But I like the term plums, too.
yes, kz, an opportunity to improve upon ourselves balanced with not devoting everything to change them.
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good advice daddy-o. and he's a great looking kid :)
I don't know what's funnier... The post itself or the comments afterward. "Plums" is a great term. I'm totally coining it.
i know, right?
i like that. these brits know how to talk, man.
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"i pity the fool kicks me in the plums."
b.a barracus.
mmmmmmmm...dutch sensi
bollocks, that was me
dan
bollocks! taht should have been. i wasn't calling you "bollocks"
i think i'll get my coat.
no worries, mate. i wouldn't understand the difference, anyway.
kind of like i don't know the difference between australians and brits, apparently.
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oh dear...i can't apologise enough. things got worse that night, much worse.
as for your distinguishing nationality skills, most brits have problems telling canadians and americans accents apart, which always infuriates those concerned.
i'm slowly picking up the nuances.
i've been accused of being scottish twice in the last couple of days. it seems everybody has problems.
as for other words for plums, how about "meat and two veg"
i like that. you just want to make sure you don't have a meat and three, as the popular dish is here in the south.
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This is a seriously heart-warming, well-written piece of work.
thanks for that.
nice to see a fellow south carolina person checking by.
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Booty Head must be a popular name for the young boys. My kid loves all the potty words. I'm glad I don't have to cower when he comes in for a hug, I see his dad do that a lot.
sorry, mamalujo ... i'm not too big on those kinds of things, but thanks.
yeah, cindy, "poopy in the stinky butt" is a favorite, too.
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Aren't boys delightful animals?
My kids used to hit dh in the plums (heh - I like that word!) with their heads (and they all have great big pumpkinheads.) Owie! He definitely did the knees forward, plums back thing for a long time when they'd launch a running hug at him, LOL!
Thanks for stoppin' by me blog matey! (apparently I'm a pirate tonight, arrr!)
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