This is a little essay from a hospital baby book, circa 1960. It's a bit schmultzy, but I liked it - particularily the last paragraph.
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 minute of every day and to protest with noise (their only weapon) when their last minute is finished and they are packed of to bed at night.
Boys are found everywhere - on top of, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swiging from, running around, or jumping to. Mothers love them, little girls hate them, older sisters and brothers tolerate them, and adults ignore them.
A boy is Truth with dirt on it's face, Beauty with a cut on it's finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in it's hair, and the Hope of the future with a frog in it's 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 pocket-size atomic bomb, 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 fire cracker, and when he makes something he has five thumbs on each hand.
He likes ice cream, saws, knives, Christmas, comic books, the boy across the street, woods, water (in it's natural habitat), large animals, Dad, trains, Saturday morning, 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, a Yo-Yo, a broken bubble pipe, 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 workshop, 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 two magic words - "Hi Dad!"
Hope you all enjoyed it
Dex
