Boys

After the recent criticism of my Rocky post as "promoting the sinful sport of boxing"  (Does this make me a real blogger now?!), I've been thinking about boys and boxing.  Boys and fighting.  Boys and jumping down stairs.  Boys and running full force into the couch.  Boys and motorcycles.  Boys and soldiers.  I'm married to one and I'm raising five and with the greatest affection, I assert that boys are weird.

But their masculine genius is a perfect complement to the feminine genius  (To use mystique is to give credibility to Betty Friedan and I refuse to do so.).  The same boy who loves his mama, plays with his sister, hugs his nana, and holds doors for ladies, also has the innards to physically protect those females.  I plan to see to it that their maleness is not "Orlando Bloomified"  (as Laura Ingraham so charmingly phrases the modern weakling!).  Do I want them to be able to put up a good fight?  To be able to shoot a crazed gunman?  Yes.  Do I want them to fight or shoot someone?  No.

But the discipline required to train the body and mind for such activities as boxing, martial arts, tactical handgun or long range shooting are priceless.  Maybe even lifesaving.  Certainly beneficial into turning wild, naughty little boys into strong, self-disciplined, reasonable, wise men who are proud of who they are.

So yup, we'll watch boxing movies and martial arts movies and police movies and soldier movies ~ as long as the Story is good, true and moral.  And I'll concentrate on my knitting or check on the babies when the fight scenes become too much for this delicate female to appreciate.


So much more on this topic,
Allison