Rough play

As a child, I learned two versions of that song, "Oh Little Playmate."

 

There was the girlie-girlie one that sang of rainbows and dollies and jolliness.

Then there was the darker version that referred to fighting and BB guns and I didn't understand why such a version would exist.

 

Now that I have a son, that grittier version is now all too clear.

 

Recently, my son attended a birthday party for a preschool friend and one of his favorite playmates was there too. Both boys have such sheer joy in their faces when they greet each other.

 

Then they get to play with each other. About an hour into the festivities, my son smacked the other boy squarely in the back. Both boys laughed hysterically. Then the other boy smacked my son. More laughing. This went on for about four rounds before one of the smacks actually hurt and then it wasn't funny anymore.

 

Later on, they had a blast running around the backyard with the sprinklers running and the pool toys scattered about. I don't know who struck whom first, but before I knew it, both boys were dueling each other, with pool noodles. Yes, those 6-foot-long foam bars that are great learning aids for new swimmers.

 

They thrusted and parried with great vigor, yelling and grunting, and chasing each other around the yard before the fighting would start anew. It was an epic battle, like Darth Vader vs. Luke Skywalker, with both contestants trying to out-noodle the other.

 

The boy's dad and I could only watch from a distance, seeing how our sons were so intent and so thrilled to have this fight.

 

And neither of these boys comes from a household where violence is tolerated or glorified. Yet when the Y gene clicks in, that need to fight comes roaring out, regardless of their upbringing.

 

Nature versus nurture? Clearly, nature rules this particular drive and it'll take a lot of nurturing to redirect this.