You have to wonder, if we really could make our bodies choose the sex of our children, like this article in Thursday’s Washington Post, Mammals pick offspring’s sex to maximize number of grandchildren, study shows – The Washington Post, seems to suggest, would there be any little boys at all?
This thought occurred to me while I was sitting in the waiting room at the pediatrician’s with my two girls the other day, observing a little boy who had found a Lincoln Log in the toy bin and was running around the room using it as a weapon against the other patients (and their parents), until he noticed the fish tank, abandoned the Lincoln Log, and decided he needed to know what a squished fish feels like running through his fat little fingers. Fortunately for the fish, he lacked the manual dexterity to accomplish his task before his mother remembered, oh yeah, she has a child, and pulled him away.
So if our bodies somehow could choose the sex of our babies at that moment of conception like the researchers at the San Diego Zoo seem to think lionesses do, would any of us ever opt to have little boys? Admittedly, I ask the question from a biased perspective, as I am the mother of two perfect, adorable, well mannered girls upon whose shoulders civilization rests because boys are out there murdering tropical fish instead of absorbing the culture, usually by watching Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs over and over (and over) again, that needs to be transmitted to the next generation.
My exasperation with little boys was exacerbated by a recent incident at a playground where a little boy named Brantley (I know his name because his mother kept screaming it) was enjoying himself by pushing other boys into the dirt, and wrestling, and punching them. Oddly enough, the other boys seemed to enjoy this, as well. My youngest, intrigued by the amount of dirt the group of boys was kicking up, took several cautious steps their way before I swooped in.
Me: (laughing nervously) Not sure if your little guy is aware there are little ones wandering around the playground that might suffer collateral damage with all that roughhousing.
Brantley’s Mother: Oh my God, what did he do now? He’s always doing something! Brantley! Did you hurt the little girl?
Me: No, no. It’s ok–
Brantley’s Mother: (ignoring me and charging across the playground toward the group of boys) Brantley, say you’re sorry. Say it, Brantley! Brantley!!!!!
So I have to believe the San Diego Zoo researchers may be on to something, because is it any wonder that my body would try its best to prevent any more Brantleys from coming into this world?
My Uterus: ok, now remember, we’re not letting any of those boy sperm near the egg. Everybody just
focus! Keep your eyes on the prize! Only girl sperm get through today!
Boy Sperm: Is there an egg around here somewhere? I need to impregnate it.
My Uterus: Hmmmm. An egg? You’re looking for an egg?
Boy Sperm: Yes, I’m here to make a baby.
My Uterus: I don’t think I’ve seen any eggs here today. Maybe you could come back next week?
Boy Sperm: Well, that might be a bit of a problem. I only live about three to five days in here. I really need to find that egg ASAP.
My Uterus: Sorry, can’t help you.
Girl Sperm: Where’s that egg? Let me at it!
My Uterus: Right this way!
Intellectually, I know that at some point, boys stop behaving like jerks, usually around the age they realize they’ll never get laid if they keep lighting their farts on fire. Or maybe girls, like my little one at the playground, realize that venturing into that huge cloud of dirt might be worthwhile after all, even if you do get hurt.
You can read more about what I think of boys in the post Pants Zipped, Legs Together and in a piece of fiction where I imagine a future world (seemingly) without sex Welcome to the Committee.
Royalty free stock photos including the images in this post can be found at Stock.XCHNG and Wikimedia Commons.
8 thoughts on “Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails”
My first go-round, I wanted a girl but had the boy. I loved it so much I thought another boy would be perfect the second time around. Of course, then I had the girl.
Before I had her and was immersed in the world of boy stuff, I would occasionally venture down the girls toy isle at Target and feel slightly dizzy from all the pink. Little motion sensor baby dolls would start crying as I walked by. It was pretty alien territory at the time!
I know this post doesn’t sound like it, but I really had no preference for a boy or a girl during my pregnancies! We had lost a baby six months into gestation and when I got pregnant again, we were just keeping our fingers crossed that at the end of nine months we would have a healthy boy or girl. Thankfully, my subsequent pregnancies were uneventful.
But yeah, I look at little boys now and I just shake my head slowly. And don’t get me started on the teen age boys I see around town. All of them seem to me to be skulking around suspiciously, just waiting to spring upon some unsuspecting young girl.
Oh, that’s terrible. Glad you went on to have healthy babies.
I think I have it a little different than others because my boy is a sweet, sensitive soul and my girl is a bruiser. But yeah, I’m scared to death for my girl to become a teenager, as I recall how naïve I was about boys’ intentions when I was young.
When I imagine the future spawn, I’m crossing my fingers for a boy first. I grew up with a family of mostly women, and I just think a boy would be a lot of fun.
Just don’t name him Brantley.
Glad you have healthy children. BUT????? I have a boy. A boy who was incredibly well behaved as a child, actually (well, except when he got sent to the office in nursery school that time). He is fairly well behaved now, at 22.
I was always glad that I didn’t have a girl because I loathe the girl toys. Barbies? Playing house? The pretend kitchen? God Nooooooooooooooooooooo!
Especially these days because every single little girl is a princess. How can there possibly be so many princesses in the kingdom and no serfs? No pages? No vassals. No rooks? No bishops?
I am only being slightly tongue in cheek. I think today’s girls, including my sweet, wonderful (and disgustingly well behaved) great niece, are going to have a rude awakening when they find they are not, in fact, princesses in real life. And when they find out that life isn’t a fairy tale.
Believe me, I treat my daughters like serfs, so they hold no illusions about life. 😉
Thank God. I couldn’t stand to hear about one more (or two more) princesses. It’s going to be weird in 20 years, I swear.
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