Monkey Boy

If you've got a baby girl, you probably have no clue of what I'm about to talk about...unless she's of the undainty variety, a tomboy. Mother's of boys have to hone this unique ability very early of, NOT FREAKING OUT! It's becoming increasingly difficult.

Collin is almost 18 months old and for about the last 6 months, maybe more, he's deemed any toddler play structure much too babyish for him. He mastered big-kid swirly slides, tube slides, climbing the stairs and jiggly bridges loooong ago; but he's decided to take on something much more risky of late.

He's made the decision that at his ripe old age, monkey bar climbers are clearly what he should master next and that he needs minimal assistance. Meanwhile, I get to have mini-heart attacks while he dangles by his fat pinkies or nearly cracks his few teeth out on them.

What possesses boys to have no fear? It can't be that they don't fall or don't hurt themselves so they don't know any better. The kid climbed halfway up a slide today where he found it to be sopping wet, slipped and then tumbled all the way back down face first. Wham! Yep, it hurt. Nope, didn't need a hug. Instead, he yelled at the slide and went right back up it again.

He plays with a girl at the park and it's there that I learned the stark difference between the sexes. They saw a moth there today. She pointed at it and stayed at least twelve inches away at all times. He grabbed it, touched it and picked it up, then climbed up the slide after it when it dared to try to save itself from death by toddler fingers.

I learned early that boys are daredevils and you just have to watch them and be below them when they fall, arms open so you can catch them, and most importantly, you have to relax or you'll drop dead by the time they turn two. But, I also learned that it's easy to love them because they do awfully cute things, like come and kiss you with a mouth full of sand, or bring you a dead moth.