Difference Between Sons And Daughters

I sent the middle Minions out to play the other day. We’ve started getting snow, which fills their little Canadian Minion hearts with glee. They looooooove the snow. Snowball fights, snow forts, snow men, SLEDDING, snow is fun, fun, fun.

Me? I inwardly grumble and curse, and stay the heck indoors. I used to not hate the snow. ‘Used to’ being the operative term there. Getting hit with RSD makes winter a tour through Hades now. I used to go sledding, do snowball fights and the rest of it. Now, being outside in the cold for any amount of time has my hand swelling, turning purple, and the entire arm screaming blue murder. So, I’m on the sidelines, and keep the kettle ready for hot chocolate.

Yeah, ok, I’m a little bitter about it. I liked sledding, dang it. But not skating. I never, ever learned how to skate, to the shame of my Canadian heart. In fact, I have a scar on my pinkie finger from the last time someone tried to teach me to skate. And I was in my 20s at the time.

Anyways. Back to the difference between sons and daughters.

They went sledding.

Tazzie comes bursting into the house, talking about how he was building snow men on the sledding hill, and then mowing them down with the sled.

“It was GREAT Mom!” he enthused, his eyes sparkling. “I built a bunch of them, and ran them all over with the sled!” He interspersed revving engine noises with his giggles. I side-eyed him, wondering if I was raising someone I’d have to eventually chain in the basement to keep society safe, when Wolf piped up, talking about what a cool idea it was. Ok, it’s one of those weird boy things, not a sign of future criminal behaviour. Got it. As a mom, the distinction can be pretty hazy.

“Where’s Princess?”

Oh, Princess was coming, but she was going to be a bit. See, she built a snowman at the sledding hill too.

But, she didn’t mow hers down.


She put it on the sled, and was dragging it home.

Difference between sons and daughters

Snowman taxi service.

Difference between sons and daughters

Transplanted snowman.

And that, right there folks, is the difference between sons and daughters. My son builds things so that he can mow them down, cackling with maniacal glee. My daughter worries that they’ll get wrecked by other kids, and brings them home to keep them safe.

Until her toddler brothers discover it, anyways.

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Difference Between Sons And Daughters — 7 Comments

  1. Hysterical. I love this post! I too worry that my son is going to be the kind that needs to be chained up. A year old and he already has that look that makes me cringe. The look that screams, “I can break/wreck/trample/smash/kill this if I really want to.” Oh those boys.

  2. That is so cute that she brought it home!
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  3. Pingback: Parenting: Getting It Right - Not A Stepford Life

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