Time Immortal

Learning these sorts of things first-hand about the differences between men and women is one of them:

I was not ever going to allow my children to play with toy guns or encourage aggressive play, and if I had a son; by golly, he could play with all the dolls or Barbies his little heart desired and then some. I never bought toy guns but I was taught by my first son that everything is a weapon. And I do mean everything. To this day, I never understood where he got the idea of stripping the Barbies down to the buff, bending them overm and sticking them feet first in the front of his pampers to use as his six-shooters. Who would have thought it would be the daughter who ended up as the designated marksman?

…

I was also forced to acknowledge by the time I had two sons that the male mind really does approach problems differently than the female mind. Before I had the second son I put down the differences between the male and female minds as all due to the socialization process. Two sons tipped the balance. It�s like this - the bookcases looked cool to climb to the Last Amazon. She tries once when my attention is on other matters, falls and deduces it was a bad idea. The sons� perceive the bookcases as a mountain to be conquered at all costs and they are prepared to pay any price to crown themselves King of the Bookcases. See the bookcases, take the bookcases or die in the attempt. It did not matter how many times they were thwarted or injured, they refused to give up. Each time they went into the assault with the premise that this time - it will end in triumph.

…

One of the biggest challenges I have had to face has been the issue of fighting. This is where I just might have to concede defeat. I never forgot one of many melees when Montana was about 3 years old. I was explaining patiently that fighting is bad, wrong, bad, and he turned to me and said, �But, Momma, I like to fight, fighting is fun.� Ah, I thought, now I have got him, and patiently explained that when you fight you can get hurt, and you don�t like to get hurt do you? He lifted his soft brown eyes into mine and very earnestly said, �No, I don�t like getting hurt but I sure do feel a lot better when I hit�em back! In the end, I was forced to rely on that old parental standby, superior fire power triumphs all. You fight, I fight you. That worked fine until he went off to school and was no longer under my eye.

We have lived in this 19th century townhouse in the downtown eastside of Toronto for the past 10 years. There are many advantages to living here but the one downside has been that the local school he attends is also a feeder school to three of the toughest housing projects in the city. I was forced to reach back into my childhood and make him learn the kid�s rules of fighting. Don�t fight girls, any one younger or smaller, anyone with glasses, physical impairments, etc. And don�t ever throw the first punch. That worked more or less okay. He never started a fight though he never did learn the art of standing down or walking away. It also made him a big hit with the girls and younger kids. Anyone pick on a girl or a younger child and Montana was in their face, ready to go.

If I can have a son like that, I’ll count my future life as a parent a rousing success.