Boys care, too.
My son has a big group of delightfully goofy boys he hangs around with. Sometimes, they land at my house after school on Fridays.
Like any group of middle school boys, they can be a lot.
Today, for example, it took a solid 10 minutes for three of them to negotiate getting into the back of my hatchback, arguing over whether backpacks should be on laps or in the way back.
I just wait and exhale.
They track mud everywhere and often need to be shooed to the basement.
I just exhale.
I made them dinner tonight, and I overheard a conversation as they were eating ice cream and I was washing dishes.
“Dude. I think I’m the ugliest guy in our group.”
The other boys got quiet. I fought every instinct to jump in and help.
“Nah,” one of the guys responded. “You’re fine.”
The boy cited his face as evidence of his ugliness, and the other boys all chimed in together, “No. your face is fine! It’s just a face!”
One boy, who had been quiet, suddenly took a breath in preparation to share his opinion. “The only thing you might consider changing,” he said as I gripped the countertop edge to hold myself back from getting involved, “is the way you part your hair. It might look cool on the other side!”
And I exhaled. And gave thanks for kind boys in my son’s life... and vowed to (try to) never get annoyed about their smelly wet socks on the couch again.