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An argument for nature vs nurture
(I SO almost didn't write this post, but in the interest of telling it like it is, had to.)
I consider myself a modern, educated kind of gal, and one who has typically resisted gender stereotyping of any sort. When I found out that I was going to have a baby boy, I didn't listen too hard to the people who attributed certain behaviors to their kids' gender.
"Oh, never mind him pulling out all the flowers and kicking the dog. He's a boy." (Usually accompanied by an affectionate eye roll)
Surely, I thought, I'd be capable of raising a boy who wouldn't go out into the world thinking that it revolved around him; or if he did, it wouldn't be because he was a man. He'd be caring, wouldn't use people, would be self-sufficient, and would be able (and willing) to express himself verbally, while still being manly - whatever that means. I thought it was a great responsibility, and even a great honor, to raise a future man.
In large part, I was right in thinking that differences are generally explained by the fact that we are all different! There just aren't a ton of behaviors that can be explained solely by our sexes. There are a lot of behaviors, however, that can be attributed to the narrow roles we force ourselves and our children to play, but that's a topic for another day.
All this to say that, even though I still believe the above to be true, and will continue to raise my child as if it were, I might be wrong.
There are things that Christopher finds hilarious that I just don't understand.
One of these things has exhibited itself in the game that Christopher and I have been playing for the past few nights. Our cousins got us this GREAT dry-erase board with the elementary school tablet lines on them, and I've been thrilled to play a word 'game' with Christopher. I say 'game' because if I were to say 'We write and read together every night', I'm sure the activity come to a screeching halt.
Generally, I write some words or a sentence, and Christopher reads them. Then he thinks of some words and writes them down, using whatever spelling comes to him. So exciting for me as he's accidentally learning to read this way.
But (and I'm sure you can see where this is going) Christopher's first three words were:
toot
poop
burp (spelled brp)
I had to praise him for spelling them mostly right, but when his second round featured the same words, I had to tell him to come up with new words. The result:
tooting
pooped
I probably don't need to tell you that these words were accompanied by wild laughter.
Sigh.
In a further attempt to thwart the spirit of the law while technically adhering to the letter of the law, last night's "new" words were:
My mom & dad (who were so wonderful as to be cooking me lasagna at my own house last night!!) tried to look stern but looked away laughing at Christopher's persistence. I give my dad a lot of credit, too, because he really tried, actually saying, "Sorry, Christopher. I won't read that. I can't understand those words" before he cracked up.
Frank, upon getting a summary of the evening's events by email with accompanying picture, laughed and replied with three words: "That's really funny."
Of course.
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I am going to have so much trouble not laughing at stuff like that. The other day my friend's little girl got mad at me because her mommy was paying attention to me. She proceeded to tell her mother (in front of me) that "I no longer love Bethany." My friend was so embarassed. It was all I could do to not cry from laughter.
it is SO funny.
and Im also stuck on the parents who come over and cook lasagna for you.
too nice!