Someday he will be a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, a printer like his dad, perhaps a preacher or even president. Today he is a three-year old mudball.
"You come in here!''I dampened a wash cloth and met him at the door. The floor was freshly waxed and it doesn't get that way enough to let him track mud across to the bathroom. "What were you doing?'' I asked, irrelevantly, because I knew good and well what he was doing. I saw him on his hands and knees in the middle of the biggest puddle in our driveway.A big smile nearly cracked the mud on his face as he answered me." I was building a bridge across the biggest ocean in the world." ''You could have taken your shoes off first!" I scolded. "I did,'' he said, so pleased that he had remembered to do something I wanted. "They make nice boats." He held up one foot with it's muddy sneaker dripping."Oh you!'' I laughed. ''Go on back to your puddle!" Our nearest neighbor, hanging out her wash stared at us. I suppose it did seem strange that I called a boy out of a puddle, washed his face, and sent him back to his muddy mess!
He is not always like this. Certainly not. Some days are worse. Last week he brought in a big tomato can, saying, ''Put this in the refrigerator, please.'' I took the can and looked. ''Not in my refrigerator!'' The can was half full of big angleworms. ''But I'm saving them for Grampa 'Coy,'' he explained. ''Don't you know he has a big sign in his yard that says 'worms for sale'-to use when you go fishing?'' Obviously, I am uncooperative, but he is reasonable.Will he be so reasonable when he is president?
What do you do with a boy when he likes bugs? (Is there any other kind?) He always likes bugs. Always. Yesterday he was playing quietly in the living room when suddenly he screamed. I dashed through the house expecting to find at least half the furniture splattered with blood. His sister was standing beside him, utterly bewildered. "She squashed my pet!" he screamed. "It was a blister beetle," his sister said." I didn't know it was his."
What do you do with a boy? They are such funny, adorable little darlings, but what do you do with them? Ours is shy, naturally enough when he has three aggressive sisters. Look at him and he squeezes his eyes shut tight and frowns. He wears his socks with the heels on top. He insists that he is big enough to dress himself- which is why his pants are nearly always on with the front pockets in back-but he is much too little to close his dresser drawers! He loves flowers, so none of ours ever get a chance to really bloom.
And why is it that boys have their own special uses for ordinary objects? Pencils are for poking holes, tables are for sitting under, books are for piling up, beds are for bouncing on, paper is to shred, doors are for swinging on, crayons are to bite in half, and dishes are for breaking.
What do you do with a boy, and what do you do with his questions? "Where do we get mustard?" "Why were you mad when I ate all the candy for breakfast?'' "Why can't I put my bubble gum on the bottom of your iron to save it while I eat?'' ''Why can't I squeeze all the toothpaste out? I would put it back.'' ''When will I be a daddy?'' ''Can you get me down out of the cupboard?''
What do you do with a boy, and what do you do with his answers? ''I used up all the Kleenex because my nose was running awfully fast.'' ''I couldn't make the road without putting all the paper plates around the room." I only climbed up the lamp to see if I could. I didn't know it would tip over and break.'' '' I was trying to be a daddy and was typing a letter.'' ''I didn't break it; I only took the wheels and the handle off." ''I thought you'd like the way I did our washing." I filled the gas tank on the truck for daddy. I just pretended the rocks were gas.'' We are out of kleenex, nobody brushed their teeth today, it is dark in here, and the truck won't run. To top it off, he has a haircut, compliments of his sister who was pretending beauty shop.
What do you do with a boy? It is evening now, he just finished supper unhappily because he wanted pancakes and we are having fried chicken.But he is clean and sweet and sleepy. We have read a story and some poems. Soon he is going to bed to say his prayers: he wants to thank God for the big puddle and ask him for a cow and a shovel. But before he goes, I am going to hold him and hug him a little longer for tomorrow he will be his wiggly, squirmy, hurrying self.
''When I grow up,'' he says, ''when I am bigger, I am going to be a daddy. When it is Father's Day, I will get lots of presents. I will go to work and have lots of dollars and cents and I will buy presents for everyone.'' And then he kissed me. ''I will be the daddy and I will have a Mommy just like you.''
What do you do with a boy? What can you do but love him?

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