Boys Will Be Boys... and All That Crap

Hubby and I were at the park with some friends the other day, watching all of our kids play. There came a point when Volcano was pretending to be a dragon, growling at the other kids with imaginary fire while the children returned with mock fear. He was having a blast. One of his friends tackled him to the ground, and they wrestled playfully.

"That okay?" Hubby asked. Hubby didn't know all of the kids as well as I did. We both have agreed that friendly wrestling is okay as long as you know the other kid, because then everybody knows their limits.

"Yeah," I returned casually. "That's his friend Sam." The were gently rolling around on the grass, and I was actually glad to see Volcano in such active play, really being a BOY. It's just been the past year that he's become more of a rough and tumble kind of guy.

"Who's that?" Hubby asked, as another boy joined the pile.

"That's Jack," I said, barely noticing. "He's okay too."

The play continued until some random boy in a white t-shirt and camouflage pants ran up to Volcano, grabbed him by the face, and then slammed him to the ground. "HEY!" I bellowed, getting up out of my seat. "CUT THAT OUT!"

Hubby got up too. "We don't know him?"

"No!" I shouted, as Volcano came over to us, crying. He had a red hand print on his face, and he was visually upset. "Hey, you! Little boy!" I called. "Yeah, you in the white t-shirt! Come here!"

The little heathen walked over to us and stood there silently. Volcano's other friends and their parents had come over to see if he was okay, so there was a small crowd gathered.

"Uh, did you have something to say to my son?" I asked him, trying to keep from wringing his neck.

Silence. He just stood there, dumb.

"Hello?" I asked, louder, waving my hands in front of his face. "Did you want to apologize for smashing his face into the ground?"

Nothing. Then a strange woman sauntered over. "Is there a problem?" she asked.

"Yeah... uh, your kid just grabbed my son by the face and slammed him to the ground," I answered, still angry. Volcano was still crying.

The woman shrugged, dusting off the pants of her precious child. "Well, they were just playing rough," she said, and guided him away.

"What?!" I scrunched my face up in disbelief and turned to Hubby. "That's it?! No apology... nothing? They were playing rough?!"

My friend Carla chuckled and said, "I cannot believe you didn't pound her."

"I'm still in shock," I replied, shaking my head. "Did you see what happened?"

"That was the same little brat that called Cameron an idiot." My friend Jennifer chimed in. Cameron was her son. "Made him cry too."

I would've yanked that kid out of the park and at least sat him in time out -- if not taken him home and put him up in his room. At least I would've made him apologize, especially if had been an accident. But she used the old "Boys will be boys" defense. It was worded differently, I know, but it still had the same meaning. She was basically saying that I needed to get over it because they were just being boys playing rough.

What a load of crap.

Boys can be boys, unless they turn mean and inflict pain willfully on to others. Then they're not "just being boys" anymore. They're becoming future bullies.

And what are we teaching our boys when we use this excuse? Boys can play violently and harmfully, and it's okay because it is expected of them? That's sexist. And it's wrong. I understand that boys have the tendency to be rougher and more aggressive in their play, but there still has to be a limit. They still need to follow the same rules that girls -- that we as a society of people -- are expected to. And it's our job as parents to set those limits.