Boys will be boys?

Honestly. I really want to know. What is it about being a boy that intrinsically means rough and tough? Ok, this is somewhat in jest--I do realize girls are perfectly capable of head bonks and such, but man, when I watch Matthew (or even Matthew and his two little friends) play, I can't help but think "what the what are they doing??"

On our recent trip to Texas, the boy/girl, nature vs. nurture thing came and slapped us in the face. We were hanging out with my friend Kellye and her darling little girl, Brenna-Marie. Brenna-Marie is about 2-3 weeks older than Matthew. Brenna-Marie, so delicately places toys down on the floor, hands things to mama, steps around toys on the floor to walk a clear path from point A to point B. And then there's my son. MY son barrels through whatever is in his way, nose-diving onto a barn he just had to play with, throws toys to get them out of his way, runs wild through her living room. And while I should have been slightly mortified at his behavior, I was more intrigued by the delicacy with which Brenna-Marie was playing. It was like watching 2 kids play and one was screaming BOY! while one was screaming GIRL! We all had to laugh at this little life lesson...yes, sometimes, they are just born this way.

A few days ago we had a little morning playdate/brunch at our house. Matthew and his little friends played together- which was fun in itself. It's been a while since they've played and it was obvious how developmentally different they are in a month's time. While they used to be quite content playing in the same room together, this time, they were actually interacting together! Matthew's friends are Paul, 2 yrs., and Keegan, 20 months. And then there's little itty bitty Matthew. Only 4 months younger than Keegan, but their size difference will amaze you. (I can only put it into sizes to illustrate this point- Matthew wears size 12 months, but honestly can squeeze into some 9 months shirts and such. Keegan wears 3T. Matthew wears size 4 shoes. Keegan, size 8.) Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, they were wrestling. Really wrestling. Like rolling around on the floor wrestling. And Matthew looked so funny there underneath Paul on the floor. And Matthew laughed the entire time. He loved it. This has GOT to be a boy thing, right?? I don't remember loving wrestling as a kid.

Anyway, all this to say- I don't beat my kid. I swear I don't. He is on his second goose egg. He got a little cut when he whacked his head on the window sill. He got a bruise on top of a bruise when he walked right into the door frame. He runs. He trips. He falls. He doesn't watch where he's going. He climbs. He jumps. He barrels. He wrestles. He is my boy. And as foreign as all this "boy" stuff is to me, he is my life. I love him way more than any words could describe.

Just watch out if you're around--he just may come barrelling your way! And when he does, don't say I didn't warn you.