Boys & Girls...

What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails, and puppy dogs tails
That's what little boys are made of!
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice and all things nice
That's what little girls are made of!


I was invited out to dinner at the house of my dear friends for dinner. It was a mother's-day eve celebration of the mom in me and the mom in my friend. Her husband prepared dinner and pampered us with a delightful evening of go-kart racing, Wii, and yummy food!

They have two sons, one of whom is in my daughter's class. It was perfectly hilarious to observe how little boys and little girls interact at age 8.

This is how one particular incident unfolded...

Their daredevil son has a kiddie motorbike and to be perfectly honest he made quite a dashing picture in his red biker helmet, Ray Ban's and smooth riding moves (I am partial to bikers). To impress my daughter, he took off down the go-kart track and returned after a victorious round of superb riding skill demonstration and parked himself in front of my indifferent daughter who was lounging on the bench in her dainty, bejeweled slippers sipping on bottled water.

He waited for a few moments for some sort of acknowledgement and when none was forthcoming, he proceeded to demand attention. "Wanna come for a ride?" he asked. My daughter raised a disdainful eyebrow and haughtily shook her head no. Thus rejected he tried a taunt, "Are you scared?" To which she very calmly and elegantly replied, "No. I'm just not in the mood", and proceeded to adjust her slippers and play with the little baby son who is 2.

Completely at a loss, the poor biker got off his bike and took off his helmet and sun shades and proceeded to throw them down on the bench, giving the poor 2 year old a very deliberate shove in the process. He then marched off indoors and returned shortly with his "license"- a cute little number plate sized for his sweet ride with his moniker proudly emblazoned on it. He flashed it around for a little while. My coy daughter meanwhile, completely ignored his attention seeking behavior and got up and went for a stroll with the baby. Now at his wits end, the jilted rider capered around making war cries and exaggerated king Kong-ish movements. In response my daughter picked up his sunglasses and tossed them over her shoulder and proceeded to declare (quite shockingly), "there boy...go fetch!" (tsk...tsk...)(I did intervene at this point and insisted that we do not make our friends "go fetch")(His parents chuckled and enjoyed the interaction unfold, unwilling to taint it with grown-up interference)

The disgusted rider picked up his shades and then tried a different strategy. He motioned to the golf cart and asked to take her for a ride. The young lady's eyes lit up at this suggestion but unwilling to appear too eager she said, "can you drive it?"

Encouraged the young suitor dashed to the cart and my daughter followed at a leisurely pace. With the baby buckled safely between them my daughter daintily adjusted herself in a most elegant and proud manner that would put the Windsor's to shame. She crossed her legs daintily and proceeded to comment on his driving skills, "slow down a little...can this thing go faster...you're making the baby bump around too much....watch out for that...."

They went once around the house and I could tell that my little princess was having a ball. When they went around the second time, the little dare devil tried a new maneuver to impress his lady rider and totally goofed up! The golf cart went under some very low hanging tree branches, messing up the princess's coif, sputtered, jammed and died! His dad had to go rescue him. Completely mortified the mighty rider drove back in shame with his much chagrined passengers and one chastising dad. "Mommy he went under the tree and I got leaves tangled in my hair" she declared smoothing her raven locks and making sure the baby was okay.

With head hanging down, the deflated rider forgot his manners and stomped out of the cart, neglecting to unbuckle and help the lady and the baby down. Upon being corrected on his lack of gentlemanly attention to chivalry by his father, (who had to do the job in his stead) he was even more mortified...."Yeah you need to be a gentleman..." piped in the young lady herself, followed by a very definite yes! sounding gurgle by the indignant baby who followed the dainty princess indoors. A much humbled bike rider trailed in back with his flashy red helmet and those oh so dashing Ray Ban's!

And the kids proceeded to go and play the Wii, while the adults were left to chuckle over the intricacies of the (bungled?) interactions between the genders...

LOL!