I got to spend today with my friend's little boy while she tended to some important family business. Spending concentrated time with this boy reminded me how "boy" boys are. My only frame of reference for this age is The Kid who was (and still is) all girl. Pink. Pony tails. Dresses and princesses. That's what I know. My friend's little fella is all blue and red (I was told very sternly by him when I was picking out markers for us to use that he didn't like "girl colors" – pink and purple), dinosaurs and cars, and lots and lots of blowing other things up. Had I spent the day with The Kid at this age, we would have had a lengthy discussion about what everyone was wearing to the princesses wedding and perhaps drawn pictures (on pink construction paper) of dresses and adorned our creations with various sizes of hearts. We would have also at some point, taken the kitty to the kitty salon to get a shampoo and set, put on imaginary make-up and practiced curtsying. And then played beauty shop.
Today, instead of conversations about weddings and hairdos, I made lots of car noises – vrrrooooooooooooooooommmmmm schreeeeeeeech vrooooooooooom, cheered at various blast noises –BLAMMMM!O WHAM POW, and tried to figure out how to origami a rocket ship. Which, in the end, wasn't necessary since my young friend was able to take the swan I had carefully folded, tear its head off and use the body as a missile. A missile which, I'm proud to say, saved the world from an evil dinosaur.