Tuesday, May 7, 2013

The Dad of a Son

So next week I am going to have been a Dad of a son for a year.  It's been pretty good, nothing real crazy, he walked faster then my daughter, though I think second children do; they need to keep up.  He is a much better eater, he's more aggressive in his dancing then she was, but all in all, they haven't been much different.

When I was younger...a little more then one year younger, I was petrified to have a son. I don't play sports, I am not tall, I've only been in one fight in my life and I was more feral raccoon then mighty lion. Also, I use metaphors of animals to explain fierceness in fighting. You know, that kind of guy.  And it's not that I think boys should play sports or fight to prove they are boys, but the truth is, some of them do.  Some boys just come out liking throwing balls and tackling strangers and kicking teeth, just like some boys come out liking to dance or sing or twirl...as it is with all kids, you just never know what you are going to get.

The guy I used to work with (yes, THE, as in the only guy) was getting a baby the same time I was getting a baby and we talked often about the terror of raising wrestlers or, what, kick boxers?!.  I mean, we work in women's clothing...wait, strike that...we sell women's clothing, but do not work in it. Anyway, we are guys that have the ability to explain what a cloche is and how to wear it.  We, neither of us, could tell you who played in the Super Bowl in 1969...or 2012 for that matter or for THAT matter, which sport the Super Bowl is the championship of. Some guys just like different stuff, and that's great!  That's amazing, as long as my son doesn't like different stuff then me.

I take comfort in the fact that there really are men out there whose biggest fear is that their son won't like guns, or sports, or spitting, or that they will like fashion or opera or cloches.  While I am the exact opposite, I am, however, no less terrified. "Please, don't let my son want to put on a helmet and smash in to other kids with helmets!", "Please don't let him think it's funny to pick on kids different then him!" "Please let him find value in kindness and inclusion!".

The worst part is, when you grow up and you are not exactly like the other boys, and you sit and seethe on the bench durring dodgeball, and you look at all the other boys who somehow make you feel less than--you make a vow: I will let my son be who ever he wants to be, I will celebrate his choices and empower his decisions! I will love him for exactly who he is and who he wants to be!

It just never occurred to me, he might like football.


I'm sorry, I'll trying to keep an open mind.
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