This article was originally published on the College Park Patch as part of the weekly column by Gretchen Schock, Parenting on a Tightrope.
Z in a hushed voice, "Punch me in the face. Come on I won't tell!"
L responds, "No, Mom is here. I'll do it later. You're just trying to get me in trouble.”
Z, “No I’m not!”
Fast forward to later in the evening. L has clearly kept to his promise, and Z comes to me pretending to cry.
“L punched me in the face!” he said.
I’m amazed he thinks this is actually going to work.
“I heard you ask L to do it earlier,” I respond calmly.
“But not that hard!” he said.
Boys. I just don’t understand them.
Gun fascination aside - I’ve accepted that I will never understand that aspect of them - why do boys insist on physical violence to entertain themselves?
You get a group of boys together, and at some point there will be shooting and punches. Both of which start out as pretend. Then someone takes it too far, and we have a full-on fight.
As a child, I remember the boys in my neighborhood doing the exact same thing. And now as a mom to two boys of my own, I’m experiencing it again, this time up close and personal.
We don’t have a coffee table for fear of someone cracking their head open during a wrestling match, which has happened and resulted in a trip to the ER. The throw pillows that I took such care in choosing for the décor of the house are often weapons of choice. A family get-together with grown men who still put each other in headlocks and punch each other in the arm is proof that I need to be the one to readjust - clearly things won't be changing with age. It's obviously in their DNA.