On 10 Oct 2009 23:41:20 GMT, insane for boys! <insane@boys.net> wrote:
>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 minute of every hour of every day and to
>protest with noise (their only weapon) when their last minute is
>finished and the adult males pack them off to bed at night.
>
>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 its face, Beauty with a cut on its
>finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair, and the Hope of the
>future with a frog in its 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.
>
>of a sword-swallower, the energy of a pocket-sized 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 firecracker, and when he makes something, he has
>five thumbs on each hand. He likes ice cream, knives, saws,
>Christmas, comic books, the boy across 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, three feet of string, an empty Bull Durham sack, two
>gum drops, six cents, a slingshot, a chunk of unknown substance, and
>a genuine supersonic code ring with a secret compartment.
>
>freckled-faced, pint-sized, cat-chasing, bundle of noise. But when
>you come home at night with only shattered pieces of your hopes and
>dreams, he can mend them like new with two magic words, "Hi Dad!"
Thanks for posting, IFB - and often so true too! lol...
Chad (NP-b24)
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