Let Boys Be Boys

I was an aunt before I became a mother. An aunt to a little girl. Then I became a mother to a little boy. Another sweet niece and sweet son followed. My nieces and my sons are different in a lot of ways. It is really fun to get to experience both sides. Motherhood is great but I love self deprecating humor and jokes about the trials and tribulations of raising kids. Internet memes and videos sometimes get me through the long days. As much as I enjoy jokes and satire, there is one genre that really bothers me: the let’s complain about boys jokes.

Why do the perceived negative traits always get harped on??

Boys are gross. Yep, they like talking about boogers and farts. Private parts are a favorite topic and potty jokes are hysterical. Why isn’t it ok to be a little silly? They find humor in simple things like their bodily functions. That is pretty great that they can get a laugh out of any little thing like that. It is healthy that they talk about their body parts so openly. In our house, we make it educational. We learn the proper names for things, and we also learn about manners and privacy with your parts. I try to teach my sons how the body works.

Boys like to dig in the mud. My sons LOVE to get dirty and messy. Isn’t that what kids are suppose to do though? Let them be little. Digging in the mud is part of their play and they are learning through that play. Who cares if they smell? I would rather them smell from being outside for hours than have them fresh as a daisy because they were on iPads all day. Boys like bugs and insects. Again, they are EXPLORING. I am glad my kids are not scared of things. If they touch bug or insects, guess what? We have hand soap and sanitizer. Boys are destructive. Yes, my boys like to break things and take them apart. They do this because they like to see how things work. Once it is taken apart, they want to find out how to put it back to together. It is how their minds work.

The other side of little boys

What is not prevalent online is the other side to little boys. They are sweet. I wish I would have started counting the number of times my little princes have called me Princess. Not because anybody told them to. Just because they decided that I am their Princess Mommy. Boys give sweet kisses and hugs. So many kisses and hugs. Boys give gifts randomly and out of the goodness of their hearts. When I say “gifts,” I mean weeds they think are flowers, rocks from the school playground, plastic rings from Chuck E Cheese, etc. These gifts aren’t given for an occasion, but just because they saw a rock they thought I would like.

Boys notice things. If I change my hair style, I get compliments. They notice when I wear something new, and they tell me how beautiful I look in it. Boys want to be great. We have a joke that my oldest is my King and my youngest is my Dragon. They try to live up to those titles. Being a good boy is important to them. The King makes his bed and his brother’s bed because that’s what kings do. The Dragon will always make sure if he gets something, he gets one for his brother. He will also let his brother have a turn because dragons take care of kings. Boys are considerate. They hold doors open for me, my grandma, and strangers at the mall. My boys and their friends are helpers. I have seen so many pure sweet moments between friends at my sons’ school.

My kids are too young to be online, so they don’t read the internet. Often I wonder, would their little feelings be hurt if they saw the video that made them out to be animals compared to girls? How would that make them FEEL? I can tell you how it makes their mama feel. NOT GOOD. What message are we sending to boys and moms of boys? We are making fun of their innate traits. It is so special that boys and girls are naturally different. Let’s celebrate that. Being different is good. Being a little kid is such a short time in a person’s life. Let’s cherish our children. Let’s let boys be little boys.

One Response to Let Boys Be Boys

  1. Lauren July 22, 2018 at 9:07 pm #

    I have a boy and you’re right, the good stuff doesn’t get enough recognition. My son calls me his sweetheart. I don’t know how it started but even if my day has been terrible, the second he says, “Momma, you’re my sweetheart”, it makes me smile to no end.

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