HuntingNet.com Forums - For those with sons of their own....

This is not about bowhunting but I know many of us have children and little boys so I figured I would share this. This was given to my wife and I by the hospital when my son was born. I just came across it in my office and thought I would share. (yes I typed the whole thing out for you guys and gals :) )

There is one titled "what is a girl?" but I cant find it. If anyone has it please send along.

Anyway, here it is.

WHAT IS A BOY?

Between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood we find a delightful creature called a boy. Boys come in assorted sizes, weights and colors, but all boys have the same creed : To enjoy every second of every minute of every hour of every day and to protest with noise (their only weapon) when thir last minute is finished and the adult males pack them off to bed at night.

Boys are found everywhere- on top of, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running around, or jumping to. Mothers love them, little girls hate them, older sisters and brothers tolerate them, adults ignore them, and Heaven protects them. A boy is Truth with dirt on its face, Beauty with a cut on its finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair, and the Hope of the future with a frog in its pocket.

When you are a busy, a boy is an inconsiderate, bothersome, intruding jangle of noise. When you want him to make a good impression, his brain turns to jelly or else he becomes a savage, sadistic jungle creature bent on destroying the world and himself with it.

A boy is a composite- he has the appetite of a horse, the disposition of a sword swallower, the energy of a pocket size atomic bomb, the curiosity of a cat, the lungs of a dictator, the imagination of a Paul Bunyan, the shyness of a violet, the audacity of a steel trap, the enthusiasm of a fire cracker, and when he makes something he has five thumbs on each hand.

He like ice cream, knives, saws, Christmas, comic books, the boy across the street, woods, water (in its natural habitat), large animals, Dad, trains, Saturday mornings, and fire engines. He is not much for Sunday School, company, schools, books without pictures, music lessons, neckties, barbers, girls, overcoats, adults or bedtime.

Nobody else is so early to rise, or so late to supper. Nobody else gets so much fun out of trees, dogs, and breezes. Nobody else can cram into one pocket a rusty knife, a half-eaten apple, 3 feet of string, an empty Bull Durham sack, 2 gum drops, 6 cents, a sling shot, a a chunk of unknown substance, and a genuine supersonic code ring with a secret compartment.

A boy is a magical creature-you can lock him out of your work shop, but you can’t lock him out of your heart. You can get him out of your study, but you can’t get him out of your mind. Might as well give – he is your captor, your jailer, your boss, and your master- a freckled-face, pint-sized, cat-chasing, bundle of noise. But when you come home at night with only the shattered pieces of your hopes and dreams, he can mend them like new with the two magic words- “Hi Dad!”

Written by Alan Beck