The Commish Online                                                                                
Evening the Playing Field
June 10, 2005

Almost a year ago, I opened the world’s eyes (read: the few dozen who read this column) to the daily sufferings of POGs (Parents of Girls), FOGs, and MOGs.  With two daughters and one more child on the way, I was wary of what might lie ahead.

Not to worry, because lo and behold, we had a boy, instantly evening out the household testosterone if you include our male dog.  Since the dog is named after a former professional baseball player, I believe he should be counted.  The score currently stands at 3-3 and for the first time in my life, I am perfectly content with a tie.  I am in no rush to see a deciding “Game 7” unless that “Game 7” happens to be a goldfish. 

I wouldn’t quite classify us as POBs (Parents of Boys) because I feel that you need to have two of a particular gender to achieve true classification (hence the plurality).  While we did not name our boy Baron von Manlyman as promised, we did settle on Leo, a strong, very “non-girl” name.  Not quite one year, Leo has already become everything that makes men, well, men.

Walking is still a work in progress, but the boy managed to discover what separates him from the girls long ago.  Add that curiosity to the new teeth which keep appearing almost daily, and we’ve got ourselves an authentic drooling, crotch grabbing boy who can’t quite control his bodily functions; that’s right, the prototypical middle-aged male at the age of one! 

Who says boys are slower to develop?  Understanding what destiny holds for him, Leo has taken quick action to become the man he will likely become for the next hundred years, assuming, of course, the whole “metrosexual” fad dies a quick death and women remember a time when they liked their men better when they weren’t fighting over the same time slot for a manicure.  Besides the belching, drooling, and inappropriate grabbing, Leo also has some comb-over issues and a propensity to move around the house without pants.  Ladies, take a good look at him because this is what you have waiting for you down the road.

Raising a boy has brought few surprises so far, but I’m sure once he’s walking, jumping, leaping, and smashing, we will be longing for the days of dolls, whining, and sleeping cookies.  Until then, I’ll just enjoy the things we have in common, although I hope to control my inappropriate grabbing and drooling problems before he does.