Oh Boy(s)!

Prior to parenthood I would hear parents claiming boys were different from girls right from the very beginning. This was information I disregarded. Not because I believed it as true or false, but because I had no basis and, frankly, no interest.
Now that I am a mommy to two boys and an aunt to two nieces I can say with some certainty that it is true. My sons are two totally different boys, yet they are both very much boy. They are filled with adrenaline and energy that can not be rivaled. They are into everything, at all times, and give a devilish grin when they know they are not supposed to be doing whatever it is they are about to do. I can assure you I have not raised my sons to love tractors and dirt anymore than my sister has made her oldest daughter only wear dresses because "pants are for boys." They are just wired this way. Sure, society plays a part in this development, but Ryder has not learned to scale furniture by watching me!
When I gave birth to two sons, I expected to be squirted in the face when changing diapers and may have pictured a future of soccer games or baseball games. I imagined tree climbing and perhaps, but hopefully not, a trip to the ER. It occurred to me they could be like their Uncle Mat and have a fondness for the martial arts. And, yes, I thought maybe there is a rock star in bloom.
But, it did not dawn on me that I would spend an afternoon in a parking lot pointing out trucks and buses and airplanes and that this would be a fun game. I did not expect to drive around a construction zone pointing out tractors and cranes. I had no idea I needed to brush up on my vocabulary on the vehicles at a construction zone. I currently call them all tractors (which are also on farms) and it won't be long before my boys are correcting me.
I have since learned, turning your back for a second means a dumped box of confectioners sugar (which is no easy task to clean up.) And, an object full of buttons, be it a remote control, a phone, a computer or a camera means an abrupt channel changing, a false 911 call, a broken letter on your computer (in this case an I) and a bunch of pictures of the floor. Raising sons means life is a touch and feel book, just like "That's not my Truck," and finding half-eaten banana's hidden in your pantry. It means jumping in puddles and playing in and then eating dirt. I have learned that raising sons means nothing is safe from destruction, nothing is impossible to open, furniture may be rearranged, and shelves and window sills are not too high to jump from. Yes, raising sons means learning all too quickly why they say "Boys will be Boys."
But, still, when you get a moment to think about your boys, you realize beneath the dirt is what will become a man. They love to stop for hugs, and laugh in delight, and fun is just par for the course. When they look at you with puppy dog eyes and remind you that despite being a bit of a menace they have a soft side too, you simply want to melt. Yes, Boys will be boys, but that is a very good thing.