"Of all of the animals, the boy is the most unmanageable"

Thank goodness for Plato--he puts it all into perspective you know?  My 10-year old son is an enigma wrapped in cranky jackass rolled in brainy-ness dipped in goofiness and finally layered with sweetness and light.  I'll throw in a heavy coating of conditional hearing loss while we are at it (although let's face it, they don't grow out of this trait). 

I've been told that's this is pretty normal for kids who are 10, with boys just being a bit 'more' of everything--I agree, with my definition of 'more' being the daily dose of performative drama that is the basis for all activities in their life--whether it is asking them to set the table, to come in for dinner or to remind them to not pass the pile of clean clothes on the stairs for the 57th time.  Every interaction at this point in their life comes with dramatically large interpretive body movements, vocalizations and handy props.  It's exhausting just to watch, much less engage.

There are days when I look at my husband and wonder where this angry dervish came from...who is this whiny, pissy boy stomping up the steps and slamming doors because I asked him to feed his cat.  Wait, he's back and he's dressed up at Hillary Wan Knobi and he's fighting for freedom everywhere until he knocks over a bunch of stuff with his light saber and stomps up the stairs, slamming his door because it wasn't his fault.  Wait, now he's playing his electric guitar singing about cows and world peace, until I compliment him and he's slamming his door and yelling about privacy.  Wait. He's offering to ride his bike with his sister...nope, that's over now too..something about her telling him what to do and yup, back up the stairs. So close..... Now he's mad because we want him to read instead of playing his DS...or is it the other way around, or because he can't have the 4th cookie, or because I made ________ for dinner instead of _________ or because he has to wait and watch the Pacific on Saturday or because I asked him about a girl, or his socks, or his underwear....

I asked him once if he every yells at me in his head to just "shut up Mom" and his answer was a sweetly phrased, "All the time Mom, all of the time."  I tell him I feel the same way and that we know this is a phase and that we love him and that we are never going to stop talking to him about emotions and choices and responsibility and family and.... I look at him and he at me and I know that he knows that I know that he's doing that thing inside his head again.   So I shut up.  And now it's me getting the 4th cookie cause I'm feeling like I like him a little less right now.  

And yet, everything is colored by the fact that he is my sweet, sweet baby--and I remember the joyful abandon of his first "big boy pee" (off the back porch, of course).  Of knowing that he is absolutely amazing with his sister and always has been.  That we love to fish together.  That he's funnier than shit most of the time.  He loves his pets deeply (don't ask about Greyback the Russian hamster).  And nice?  There hasn't been a sport he's played where a parent from the other side hasn't made a point of telling us what great sportsmanship our son has.  He loves talking to his Grandpas and Grandmas.  He is a keen reader like his mom and a poet/songwriter with phrasing that I cannot comprehend. He stands up for his friends at school, loves to talk about democracy and US history and even has set up a number of 'votes' in various classes about issues and races he's felt strongly about.  Like his Grandpa John, he's never met a stranger in his life.  Like his Dad he feels and thinks deeply and strongly. Like his Grandpa Marty he is a keen recorder of life through photos and video.  Like his Grandpa Dan he loves his sports and history and science shows on TV.  He is, I am proud to say, an amazing kid.

Even when I find his socks in the kitty litter box, his army men in the washing machine and that he's only worn one pair of underwear all week.  After all, he's 10. And a boy. Right?