Wednesday, January 10, 2007

The Brains of Boys

Johnny moved his desk downstairs and his office is back open for business.

Formerly, he made maps and studied leaves. Now he is a private eye and studies animals.

This is his list of things to do:

1. Test a mushroom and saumaor (salamander.)
2. Test a centipede and worm.
3. Check if any people are missing.
4. Find spy supplies.
5. Get ready to spy.
6. Spy.

On a related note, I'm reading a book called "The Minds of Boys," which states that PET scans prove that boys and girls' brains are different, thus they act different because of nature, and not just nurture.

The book is really helpful because it tells you ways to teach and raise boys. For instance, you should let them be rough and tumble with each other as long as they're not hurting anyone. This is one way they communicate.

But as far as the theory that boys are inherently different than girls, well, any mother of boys could tell you that.

I mean, our boys weren't raised by wolves, so nurture could hardly explain their growling and pouncing on each other.

Take me, for example. Please. I am with my three sons an average of 47 hours, 34 minutes and 28 seconds a week while Justin works (but who's counting?) And none of the boys acts even remotely like me.

For instance, I do not greet other mothers in the park by tackling them.

When Justin and I are sitting on the couch, I do not lie down and start kicking him. Not even soft kicks.

I also do not urge him to smell my feet.

While grocery shopping, I do not pretend to be a cougar and race around on all fours.

Nor do I put worms on my head. In my mouth. Or in my brother's pants.

If somebody put worms in my pants, I would not laugh as if it were the funniest thing in the world. On the contrary, I would be mildly offended.

But my sons do.

So you see, this proves, that nature, as well as nurture, makes a boy who he is.

The good news is, while I would not personally do any of the above things, it is interesting to watch the boys do them. At times, I feel like Jane Goodall.

I know that those worms they are taste-testing are just the precurser to bigger plans. A career in biology. Or the creation of a new superhero: Night Crawler. Or just the simple realization that even the worst thing imaginable--eating a worm--won't kill you.

And for a boy, that which doesn't kill you, will only make your mom gag.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Ma said...

I can't find the watch that Kathy had gotten me for Christmas. I last put it on my desk upstairs. How much would Johnny charge to investigate and hopefully find it for me? Next stop - St Anthony!

2:08 PM  
Anonymous mom said...

Just started thinking - their Uncle Luke ate a jar of beetles in college biology and goldfish at Rockhurst hs. Their great-uncle John bit a worm in half to share it for fishing. So your boys problem might be a little bit familial!!

2:13 PM  

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