The boy thing

By Lauri Hennessey

We have a son who came to us after two girls. That means he has gone to Camp Fire with me for five years. It also means he sings in the chorus with his sisters, sells Camp Fire candy at Thriftway, and watches musicals. Finally (oh, the indignity of it all), it means he has always had his own American girls dolls (well, boys) to match his sisters.

Should I feel guilty about this?

Before you start judging me too harshly for creating my son's future as an interior designer or Broadway producer, I also have this to report: My son loves toy guns. He loves toy knives. He loves war games, toy soldiers and making sounds like "AARRRGGHH" when someone dies in a pretend game. These are things I didn't encourage, mind you. They just happened.

I have thought a lot about the "boy thing." Why does my son want to play with those army toys? I have talked to dozens of moms over the years that said they outlawed weapons in the toy closet, and their sons made guns out of bananas. My little boy is drawn to violence - and there's nothing I can do about it.

I have come up with this theory. I think the girls that are the most outrageous and full of life are the girls who had powerful moms ... and also dads that let them speak. There had to be that combo to allow the girl to stand up with pride, and know she could take the world by storm. I also figure the most powerful boys are those that have dads that teach them all the boy stuff... and moms that teach them it's okay to cry, or to hug, or to sing.

It's a constant struggle for a boy - fitting in, and being a "boy's boy," but knowing how to give your mom a hug.

My little boy is now in first grade, and has been around music or has been singing his whole life. Lately, he has begun to chafe a bit, to feel chagrined when he performs. Yet he still wants to be included, wants to be part of the family hobby. Then, when my daughter was done doing a play and they had to tear down the set, we found the solution. My little boy jumped in and helped tear down the set. He hung out with men. He got to do manly things like hammering, and climbing ladders. And he got to be part of the whole theater thing. A solution - however melancholy it may make me feel.

A part of me is sad about this inevitable clamping down on the sensitive side of a boy. Another part of me has been preparing for it forever. As long he is willing to pick up a hammer - and still give his mommy a hug.

When that stops? Well, then Lucy, he'll have a lot of explaining to do.

Lauri Hennessey has written this column for the last nine years She runs a public relations business and has three kids, the youngest one really into weapons lately. You can reach her at Lauri@hennesseypr.com