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- What are little boys made of made of? What are little boys made of?
- Snips & snails & puppy dogs tails…That’s what little boys are made of.
- Little boys are so different from little girls. Don’t say “Duh.” Think about it. I have been. I grew up around girls. Lots of them. Boys were a little strange and foreign to me. They were rough. They were loud. And, let’s face it: sometimes they were dirty. And they didn’t care.
- Now that I spend my days with my son, I’ve become amazed by a few things:
- He’s already someone’s prince charming. I’m not kidding. Today, he leaned toward my hand (I thought for a moment he was going to bite it), and I heard the distinct sound of a sweet kiss. Melt my heart. And remind me: God is already preparing him to be the man of someone’s dreams. wow. How can I help him grow to be exactly what God has planned? How can I help encourage that sweetness and gentleness as he grows to be strong as well?
- He was born for adventure. We all were, but this little boy is already looking for it. He’s crawling now, and when he’s peering around a corner to see what might come next, the most wonderful look is on his face. It’s mischief, it’s curiosity, it’s expectation…and it’s beautiful. His little eyes twinkle, his grin grows wide, and he looks to me for approval before taking the turn to the unexpected and unknown….Oh, that I would encourage him to seek adventure and teach him to follow the One who has set us on it and who will lead us through it. That I would not foster fear in him.
- Boys and puppies were made for each other. Oh, my daughter loves dogs. She loves all animals. (We’re still debating with each other about whether there are any “good” snakes.) But, his love for HER puppy is unreal. A nine-month-old boy only knows so many words, and the one he speaks most clearly and most often is “Shadow.”
- At eight years old, I was right: boys are gross. He ate his first bug today…and I’m pretty sure he liked it. I’m still shuddering over it.
- He LOVES balls. If you can throw it, bounce it, roll it, kick it or catch it, he loves it.
- I’ve never thought so much what life for Mary must have been like as she held her newborn son, as she watched him grow. As he snuggled close, needing her, how must she have felt? How could the one with infinite power need her protection, her provision? God’s ways are not my ways…and holding my own son has prompted my heart to ponder them.