I’m always being asked if it’s any different having a girl. I still don’t know. Babies are…well…babies. Except for diaper changes, they seem sort of unisex.
But in older children, some striking differences emerge. The other day I overheard Benjamin and his cousin Gabby (both 6 3/4, which is much older than 6 1/2) playing chess. He knew the moves and a bit of strategy, but she clearly envisioned another level for the game—something more relational, perhaps.
“Where do you want your bishop to move, Gabby? Here or there?” Benjamin asked, eager to progress the game.
“There,” she pointed without hesitation, “and when he gets there, he’s going to say ‘hi.'”
Hi? In chess? Sure enough, the nominal opponents carried on a game-long chat with one another. And there was one more rule: “We don’t attack the other person unless we really have to.”
No doubt it’s superfluous to tell you that rule didn’t originate in the male mind. Our boys most definitely exhibit hawkish tendencies. The more war the better, and blood and guts are a bonus.
The game continued, Benjamin won (but only because he had no choice), and everyone maintained their dignity and remained friends. How, er, satisfying.