Julia was born to teach me humility.
Henry was born to teach me that I will never be fast enough.
When I found out we were having a boy, my brother (the father of three boys) was more excited than anyone. Mostly because he wanted to laugh in my big, fat, smug face for all my years of high horsey "My children would never do that"-edness. Because being the mother of a boy is decidedly different than being the mother of a pretty pretty princess. It just is.
I didn't believe it would be all that different, especially when they're babies. How old fashioned to believe that preferences are so fixed, so early!* How sexist, how silly, how idiotic! My children will never be harnessed by the yoke of gender stereotypes.
Right.
Give Henry a stick and a ball, and he will make contact. Give him anything with wheels, and he will go "brrrrruuuuuummmmm". Put something up high, and he will find a way to climb up to it. Show him a piece of machinery and he will point and yell "OH OH OH!". Take off his diaper and he will, well, he'll do what boys do. Boys.
Sure, he also likes purses and baby dolls and occasionally poops out a sequin. Those things happen, especially when you have big sisters. But he is so different, and that difference seems so natural and unforced, it is really remarkable to me.
But despite all his very boyness, he is also my lovey. My sweetie boy, who would be perfectly happy in my arms all day long. He is my most affectionate, sweetest, cuddliest baby. The same 'they' that say boys are different also say that there is something special about the mother-son relationship. I'm beginning to think that 'they' may be right.
*I am firmly against gross generalizations, except when they fit my particular situation. I am firmly in favor of people (even babies) being who they are, so if your baby girl likes monster trucks and your baby boy likes Barbie dolls, rock on.
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