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What Is a Girl?
Little girls are the nicest things that happen
to people. They are born with a little bit of angel-shine about
them and thought it wears thin sometimes, there is always enough
left to lasso your heart - even when they are sitting in the
mud, or crying temperamental tears, or parading up the street
in mother’s best clothes.
A little girl can be sweeter (and badder) oftener
than anyone else in the world. She can jitter around, and stomp,
and make funny noises that frazzle your nerves, yet just when
you open your mouth, she stands there demure with that special
look in her eyes. A girl is Innocence playing in the mud, Beauty
standing on its head, and Motherhood dragging a doll by the foot.
Girls are available in five colors - black, white,
red, yellow, or brown, yet Mother Nature always manages to select
your favorite color when you place your order. They disprove
the law of supply and demand - there are millions of little girls,
but each is as precious as rubies.
God borrows from many creatures to make a little
girl. He uses the song of a bird, the squeal of a pig, the stubbornness
of a mule, the antics of a monkey, the spryness of a grasshopper,
the curiosity of a cat, the speed of a gazelle, the slyness of
a fox, the softness of a kitten, and to top it all off, He adds
the mysterious mind of a woman.
A little girl likes new shoes, party dresses,
small animals, first grade, noisemakers, the girl next door,
dolls, make-believe, dancing lessons, ice cream, kitchens coloring
books, makeup, cans of water, going visiting, tea parties, and
one boy. She doesn’t care so much for visitors, boys in
general, large dogs, hand-me-downs, straight chairs, vegetables,
snow suits, or staying in the front yard. She is the loudest
when you are thinking, the prettiest when she has provoked you,
the busiest at bedtime, the quietest when you want to show her
off, and the most flirtatious when she absolutely must not get
the best of you again.
Who else can cause you more grief, joy, irritation,
satisfaction, embarrassment, and genuine delight than this combination
of Eve, Salome, and Florence Nightingale? She can muss up your
home, your hair, and your dignity - spend your money, your time,
and your temper - then just when your patience is ready to crack,
her sunshine peeks through and you’ve lost again.
Yes, she is a nerve-wracking nuisance, just a
noisy bundle of mischief. But when your dreams tumble down and
the world is a mess - when it seems you are pretty much of a
fool after all - she can make you feel like royalty when she
climbs on your knee and whispers, "I love you best of all!" |
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 hour of every
day and to protest noisily (their only weapon) when their 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, Charm 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 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 jungle creature bent on destroying the world and himself
with it.
A boy is a composite - he has the appetite of
a horse, the digestion of a sword swallower, the energy of a
beaver, 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 firecracker...and when he
makes something, he has five thumbs on each hand.
He likes 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, neck ties, 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 bolt,
a half-eaten apple, three feet of string, an empty Bull Durham
sack, two gum drops, six pennies, a sling shot, 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 or hobby room, 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
up - he is your captor, your jailer, your boss, and your master
- a freckle-faced, 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
magic words "Hi Mom!" and "Hi Dad!" |
