I have two boys and do you know what – they are ‘boysy’ boys. I’m not saying that because I think it’s right or cool. I’m saying that because it’s just the way it is.
They like climbing, smashing, grabbing, wrestling, jumping, shouting and consistently talking about poo, just like some girls and just like a lot of other boys. It’s not something I have encouraged, in fact I have always supplied them with a wide range of toys, but the dolls buggy we bought is used as a battering ram and if I were to ask them to make me some dinner at their toy kitchen I would most likely receive a wooden carrot in my eye socket. Ouch.
I remember vividly the day I took my eldest to a small zoo when he was 3 years old, as an animal lover I had hoped he would share in my passion but as we moved from enclosure to enclosure he was largely disinterested, until suddenly full of excitement I saw him run towards a fence and press his face up right against the bars. What incredible animal could have finally captured his attention I wondered?!
The mechanical, non alive ones, building a new enclosure for real animals that he would consider pointless… because they don’t have wheels. There is not much more that I can do now except hold my hands up and say…