Confession #21: Boys are a different breed! I remember when Luke was about 18 months old, he went through a head butting phase. Yep you read that right, head butting. Dear God, I thought for sure something was not right with that kid. He would head butt anything he came in contact with be it food, his toys, the wall, the dog, me etc. I got on Google one night and had myself convinced that he needed some serious psychological help. I will never forget taking him to the doctor for a check up, and spilling my guts about my freak show son and his need to whack everything with his head. The doctor looked at me and laughed and said, “There is nothing wrong with Luke; he’s just a boy.” What the hell did that mean,” He’s just a boy?” The whole car ride home I kept looking at Luke in the rear view mirror and thinking to myself, “Huh, so he’s normal and this is just what boys do.” I never in a million years had any idea just how different boys and girls were. Girls I get, I mean I am one after all. I understand the emotional roller coaster, sassy, nurturing behavior of a girl. If I had to describe a typical boy in one word, it would be physical! My son from the time he wakes up till the time he goes to bed is running, jumping, kicking, dancing. You name it; as long as it involves moving, he’s doing it, and apparently that’s normal. My daughter could sit at the kitchen table and color for hours. In 5 minutes of Luke sitting down to color he will have colored 10 pictures (not well), broken 38 crayons in half just because, and pulled his sister’s hair twice. If something were to ever happen to the baby (God forbid), it would take Luke a good 2 weeks to realize the kid was missing from our house and apparently that’s him just being a boy. Does anyone else find the “Well, he’s a boy” reasoning a bit strange? To mothers of boys, they say boys are harder when they’re little and girls are harder when they’re older. I’m not sure when exactly this older time period starts, but I will say I do look forward to it. To all the moms out there who get karate chopped, jumped out at from behind doors, rammed in the back of the legs with the shopping cart, and hear, “Mom, watch this” while your kid is jumping off of only God knows what on a daily basis, you’re not alone. Don’t worry, the hospital social worker won’t think you’re a bad mother if it’s your 3rd ER trip of the week. I happen to know this because I am an ER social worker and because as strange as that is, it’s because he’s a boy.