As the group of boys ran like crazy through the maze of levels at the fast food play place, I found myself wondering if the manufacturers had tested it thoroughly enough as little sock covered feet pounded mercilessly up and down the ramps.  There’s a fine line between where boys are just playing and where they can start hurting each other because they just get too rough, and these eyes have had plenty of practice seeing the difference after having raised three boys.  My boys got a little wild sometimes and even if they didn’t get hurt, they certainly took it out on the places we lived and the furniture we lived on.  One of the other women watching her boys looked at me today when I got up to check on our foster grandkids and asked, are my boys being too rough?  I looked at her with an understanding smile and said no, it’s just how boys are.  She responded with a sigh of relief saying, “you know, either you understand how boys are or you don’t”.

I don’t mean to stereotype, but in my personal experience when a group of boys gets together, anything can happen.  These same boys, when they’re alone may be very quiet, preferring to read books or play with Legos, but together – oh my.  In fact, while watching the boys today, ALL the boys (men) in the house were playing with games and toys.  It’s who they are at heart.  I seem to remember my boys, including Doug, running throughout the house shooting each other with nerf guns.  There was a pit with a fireplace in the living room and some of the boys would use it as cover to shoot others running down the hallway.  The pit was also great to put large blankets across and build forts.  Or fill up with pillows and jump in.

And while you and I might think the top of the toy box is just that, the boys will turn it into a vehicle to slide down the steps, making sure they have taken every pillow in the house to put at the bottom so they don’t get hurt.  Never mind the front door, of course.

So to keep them from tearing up the house, you send them outside, right?  This is where they find old deer bones out in the woods and play with them, or play in a muddy creek outside church in their dress clothes.  The boys still talk about how I made them take their muddy pants off outside the car in the church parking lot, put them in the trunk and then have them sit together in their tightie whities in the back seat.  They didn’t do it again.  At least at church.

Stitches and broken bones were always a thing.  Not from something as simple as organized sports, but from things like jumping off a retaining wall at church, or throwing a cup at your brother’s head or talking your younger brother into stomping on a butter knife in a sandbox.  We weren’t told exactly how the bottom of the foot was cut until many years later.  Probably a good thing for them.

Having grown up with a brother and then having to raise boys, I didn’t have a lot of experience with girls, but I’m glad God chose to put boys in my life.  Boys can have a fight, make up in a little while and it’s over.  Boys come running when you yell “spider!!!” to kill it for you. Boys can help you lift heavy things and, if you’re short like me, reach things on the high shelves.  It’s a wonderful thing.

As a culture, I think we’re losing the art of raising boys and I believe it’s due to fear on the part of parents and teachers.  So many are concerned that allowing “boys to be boys” will keep them from growing up to be kind, respectful gentlemen.  So as adults, what we do is try to contain or stifle the energy and creativity of boys at play, not allowing them to use their imagination to make up games on playground equipment, trying to organize everything they do so that it’s “fair” and so they won’t get hurt.  All kids, boys and girls, learn fairness and how to play with others through experiences and working things out for themselves.  In our house, our boys may have created some havoc, but they had the example their father set as to how to treat others, particularly women, with kindness and respect.  As a parent, you know your kids are in pretty good shape if they can let loose with you but they understand the boundaries they’ve been given in terms of how they behave with others outside your home.  My boys seldom disappointed me in that respect.

As a teacher, a parent and now a grandparent, I would urge us to allow boys to be boys, allowing them to let loose and be creative, to explore and experiment, testing their limits, all the while understanding that it’s imperative for us to lead by example in terms of kindness and respect for others.  It is possible for boys to be boys without being a part of the “good old boys club”.   So grateful that I had the opportunity to raise, love and learn to understand my boys.