What is a Boy?

I found this posted on another site and it absolutely made me think of my son.

 What is a Boy?

    Between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood, we find a delightful creature called a boy. Boys come in assorted sizes, weights and colors, but all boys have the same creed: to enjoy every second of every minute of every hour of every day and to protest with noise (their only weapon) when their last minute is finished and the adult males pack them off to bed at night. Boys are found everywhere---on top of, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running around or jumping to. Mothers love them, little girls ignore them, older sisters and brothers tolerate them, adults ignore them, and Heaven protects them.
    A boy is Truth with dirt on his face. Beauty with a cut on its finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair and Hope of the future with a frog in its pocket.
    When you are busy a boy is an inconsiderate, bothersome, intruding jangle of noise. When you want him to make an impression, his brain turns to jelly or else he becomes a savage, sadistic, jungle creature bent on destroying the world and himself with it.
      A boy is a composite---he has the appetite of a horse, the digestion of a sword swallower, the energy of a pocket-size atomic bomb, the curiosity of a cat, the lungs of a dictator, the imagination of a Paul Bunyan, the shyness of a violet, the audacity of a steel trap, the enthusiasm of a fire cracker, and when he makes something he has five thumbs on each hand.
      He likes ice cream, knives, saws, Christmas, comic books, the boy across the street, woods, water (in its natural habitat), large animals, Dads, trains, Saturday mornings and fire engines.
     He is not much for Sunday school, company, school, books without pictures, music lessons, neckties, barbers, girls, overcoats, adults, or bedtime.
      No one else is so early to rise or so late to supper. Nobody else gets so much fun out of trees, dogs and breezes. Nobody else can cram in one pocket-a rusty knife, a half eaten apple, three feet of string, an empty Bull Durham sack, two gum drops, six cents, a sling shot, a chunk of unknown substance and a genuine supersonic ring with a secret compartment.
      A boy is a magical creature---you can lock him out of your kitchen, but you can't lock him out of your heart. You can get him out of your study, but not out of your mind. Might as well give up---he is your captor, your jailer, your boss and your master. A freckled-faced, pint-sized, cat-chasing bundle of noise. When you come home at night with only the shattered pieces of your hopes and dreams---he can mend them all like new with the two magic words----Hi MOM

The Angry Blog

Its been a long time since I've blogged... Life has moved forward... time has moved on... and the world is still spinning. There is one thing I cannot move on from though. I'm angry, I'm so angry. I'm Angry that I feel like I'm the only person who cares that Anna died. No one talks about her, they want me to forget about her, when she died they told me to forget about her, to move on with my life. At the time I thought it was for the best. I know they were wrong though. I should have talked about her. I feel like I was cheated, I feel like she was cheated, I feel like I cheated her. She deserves better than this... So from now on I don't care if it makes people uncomfortable, I don't care that you don't know what to say... Its not my job to protect all of you all and your feelings.. My daughter died... I have a right to say that I have a daughter and I believe that she is in Heaven now. I have a daughter and she died. I have a daughter and I love her.