The Creature Named Boy

Something about just having a sister does not adequately prepare you for raising a boy.

I'll never forget the first time I went home with my college roommate. She has two younger brothers that she is crazy about and when she went off to Aggieland they missed her dearly. Upon entering their living room, she was greeted with a pounce to the floor. One brother poked and tickled her mercilessly, while the other held her down in a choke hold. And when the duo finally emerged and turned to meet "the friend", they found me crouched in a corner with a look of sheer terror in my eyes.

Clearly, boy love was foreign to me.

But not anymore. Thanks to Park, I now realize that nothing says I love you like a good body slam. Boys are rough and tumble. A sweet kiss is not complete without a debilitating head butt. It comes with the territory that flying objects will whiz past your head and laying on the floor automatically qualifies you as a human trampoline.

Without a brother, I had no manual to prepare me that bugs would someday be sacred and tractors could be worthy of delightful squeals. There was no way for me to know that mud puddles are made for jumping in or that dirt is a way of life.

Part of my role as a mother is to soften rough edges and cultivate a need for intimacy in Park. Teaching sensitivity and gentleness encourages him to value women and empathize with others. And sometimes I must gently remind him of the different ways to play with Mommy verses Daddy.

But I've also come to realize that the the other part of my role is to allow rowdy, rough behavior and insane risk taking.

The very nature of a man craves adventure and excitement. The fearless spirit that leaps off jungle gyms will someday be unafraid to protect a wife. The adventurous spirit that spontaneously throws himself into mud puddles will accept the challenge of securing provisions for his family. The conqueror of bugs will captivate his kids for Christ.

Things I all too often mistake for aggressive behavior or lack of impulse control are simply the fingerprint of the Creator, who chose to make Park male.

What an amazing God we have, equally equipped with both feminine and masculine qualities, himself. Creating men and women in His own image, He was intuitively aware that one could not prevail without the other.

And in that uniqueness, more of Him is revealed.

The foreignness of boy love has faded away. And in its place is an overwhelming appreciation for the gift of raising a son.

And that's the dirty truth.

(Already a dirt lover at the ripe old age of 8 months)