[Welcome to Throwback Thursday here on the blog. In honor of my last post where I talked about the newspaper column I used to write (and also in honor of weeks that disappear due to our fiscal year-end), I am gifting you, dear reader, with a re-print of one of those old columns. Disclaimer: some of the opinions and word choices of 2001-Bonnie are not those of 2019-Bonnie.]

Led by my oldest son, the three little men in my house have suddenly developed a fascination with the female gender. At three, five and seven, they aren’t exactly ready to date, but the five-year-old has been proposed to, and has accepted.

What appears to be so interesting to them is the idea that girls are not only different physically, but in other ways as well. Besides the body parts that require special equipment (eventually), there is also a sense of wonder at why girls generally don’t like to wrestle like they do and why they prefer Barbies to Batman. They giggle madly when we pass by the ladies undergarments in clothing stores and they struggle with the reason why they can’t be in the room when Mom says she’s getting dressed. Curiosity sometimes does get the better of them. A little while ago, Timmy (the engaged one) did walk in on me. Noticing my interesting underwear, he turned on his heel and ran to his brother yelling, “Gil, come see Mom’s funny t-shirt!”  

As the lone female in my little family, I realize that I am their ambassador to the female world, a commission that I hope I can represent well. When Simon was born, I was not disappointed at all with having three sons. I certainly had enough people reassuring me that I would be the princess of the family.  So far my boys have only made me feel like Xena the Warrior Princess as they beg me to make them cardboard swords while I threaten them with great doom if they go careening through my royal kitchen one more time.

There are certainly times when I struggle to explain the differences. As three sets of eyes watch me apply my makeup in the mirror and they question my motives, it’s hard to conceal my girlish vanity. It’s a lot easier when daddy’s around since all he has to say is “Because!” and they know that’s his final answer.

What I hope we convey to the boys in daily life is that boys and girls are not so different in how we should treat each other. Just because Mom is a better whiner, doesn’t mean Dad should let her get away with it. And just because Dad has better excuses, doesn’t mean he can’t wash the dishes. 

Until then, my oldest son has it all figured out. Just yesterday he told me, “Mom, girls can do anything that boys can do except one thing…wear swimming trunks!”