What Is A Boy?

Between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood we find a delightful creature called a boy. Boys comes in assorted sizes, weights, and colors, but all boys have the same creed: To enjoy every second of every minute of every hour of everyday and to protest with noise (their only weapon) when their last minute is finished and the adult males packs 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 his face, Beauty with a cut on his finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in his hair, and the Hope of the future with a frog in his 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, sadistic, 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 atomic bomb, the curiosity of a cat, the lungs of a dictator, the imagination of Paul Bunyan, the shyness of a violet, the audacity of a steel trap, the temper of a fire- cracker, and when he makes something he has five thumbs on each hand.

He likes ice cream, knives, saws, Christmas, comic books, the boy accross 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, neckties, 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 knife, a half-eaten apple, 3 feet of string, and empty Bull Durham sack, 2 gum drops, 6 cents, a sling shot, a chunk of unknown substance, and a genuine super-sonic code ring with a secret compartment.

A boy is a magical creature-you can lock him out of your work shop, 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 freckled face, pint sized, cat chasing, bundle of noise. But when you come home at night with only the shattered pieces of your hopes and dream, he can mend them like new with the two magic words-
"Hi Dad!"

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