It’s a Boy Thing

I’ve come to the shocking realization that … I am the mother of a boy. I know, you’re thinking I’m a little slow if it’s taken me 22 mos. to realize this. Somehow, though, the full ramifications only sank in this weekend.

It started when I went shopping for an Easter outfit for Miles. First I went to Macy’s since they were having a sale. If by sale you mean 40% off tacky polyester suits that were $89 (!!) to begin with. The few cute things I could find only went up to size 24 mos. It might have fit him on Easter, but I don’t buy one-time-only outfits. This isn’t the Oscars, people.

So then I went to Target, Old Navy, Marshall’s, Baby Gap, The Children’s Place, Gymboree, even Janie & Jack, although I am morally opposed to paying $50 or more for an item of clothing made from less than a yard of fabric. (OK, for ANY item of clothing besides a wedding dress!! I’m cheap, what can I say?) But everywhere I went, I was faced with the same couple racks of boring khakis, button-down shirts, blazers, and sweater vests. If I wanted to dress my baby like a 35-year-old stockbroker, I’d have no problem finding clothes for him.

And yet, the stores virtually overflowed with adorable spring-colored frocks for little girls. Pink and brown polka dots! Yellow and green flowers! Lilac and peach ruffles! Adorable Mary-Janes! Stripey tights! Tiny purses and bows and ribbons galore! The more I shopped, the more depressed I got. Finally, on my third trip to the mall, I broke down and bought a cute but overpriced sweater vest and a striped shirt (both on sale). Miles wore them with pants and shoes he already owned. And he’s going to wear them again to a family wedding.

On Easter, I noticed that half the boys at church were dressed identically in navy blue blazers and khakis. The others wore sweater vests and button-down shirts. But I noticed something else about the boys. During the children’s story time, the pastor had all the kids sit in a circle. He started a story, then each kid had to add to it. The girls all made up tales about cute farm animals and playground games. Then it was the boys’ turn and suddenly the story took a turn for the worse: “Then the lion jumped out and ate the bunny!” “And then he pulled down his underwear!” “And then the tree crashed to the ground and killed everybody!” A mom standing next to me rolled her eyes and said, “Boys will be boys.”

Later that day, my brother, his wife, and their 15-mo-old daughter came over. (My niece, Chloe, was wearing an adorable spring dress and leggings, BTW.) Chloe would be quietly enjoying a ride on the Pooh car, and Miles would come barreling up on his motorcycle and yell, “CRASH!!” Chloe would pick up a ball and carry it around; Miles would spike it off someone’s head. (To be fair, so would his dad.) Chloe would place some toys inside the toy watering can; Miles would use it as a hammer. All the while, Chloe played quietly while Miles hollered and growled and babbled away.

But you know, it’s not the clothes or the bathroom humor or the roughhousing that worries me about having a boy. It’s that he might grow up and leave me one day. I can’t help but notice that when girls grow up, they tend to be closer and more involved with their families. Whereas boys grow up and fly the coop. And when they get interested in family again, it’s usually their wife’s family. So the thought that I might someday only see Miles on Easter and Christmas and every other Thanksgiving makes me very, very sad. Even if he grows up to be a successful, sweater-vest-wearing stockbroker.

LAUGH O’ THE WEEK: Have you guys seen this? Things I’ve Learned from My Boys (Honest and Not Kidding).