Posted in humor
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I obviously have very little understanding of the male gender. I've known this for years. I grew up in an almost all chick household, with just myself, Debbles, Indiana Mimi and Gigi. I had guy friends, but I didn't understand them. I had a few male teachers, but I didn't understand them either. I've read male authors, whom I've enjoyed, but have not completely understood. I met and married Big D. I love him, but often he's beyond my comprehension. Harrison regularly completely boggles my mind. Recently he's been reading the above book that he received last year for Christmas. I'm all about encouraging kids to embrace their genderness, you know, boys will be boys and all of that kind of stuff. Now, while I'm generally not in favor of banning books, this one may be banned from our personal library. Harrison has been harassing me for the last few days...and yes, I did say harassing...over this particular page...
First, he wanted to know what 'essential' meant. I, not having a clue why he was asking, told him that it meant necessary. So now he has been doing an inventory of what he has and doesn't have. Thus far he has assessed that he's fairly well equipped to be a dangerous boy, with the exception of a Swiss army knife and a box of matches. He actually once possessed a small pocketknife, but we eventually had to confiscate it due to the dangerous activities (that involved blood and guts) with it. I've never even considered handing him over a box of matches. I like my house too much to do that. And may I take the moment to applaud the Igguldens for having the foresight to include band-aids on their list, since they are requiring young boys to carry around knives and fishhooks and needles. Harrison's also been pretty obsessed with this page...
But don't worry, the Igguldens shortly follow these instructions with this...
I now feel much, much better that my son has the desire to construct lethal weapons. The other day Harrison was playing innocently outside with a very blunt-edged football, so I sat down with this dangerous book to find out what else my son would be learning as he continued with this reading material.
Girls?!?! He's eight years-old for Pete's sake! Does he really need advice on picking out the perfect bouquet of flowers or on not signing his handmade Valentines because girls like the mystery? Well, I did find this section useful...
Oh, Mr. and Mr. Iggulden, just visit our home any time, and you can witness all kinds of these sorts of vulgar acts that are not endearing to girls. You could leave armed with enough research to write your future bestseller, The Vulgar Book for Boys.
Then there was this page...
Do the authors realize they have just endangered every cat, dog, squirrel and child under the age of two within 100 yards of our home? And then there was this...
I can't tell you how relieved I am to know that his allowance will be well spent! At this point, I had had enough, and was searching for my own box of matches, to rid our home of this dangerous book, when I happened to spy this page...
Ah, well, that's nice. The English teacher in me is a little slower in her bent on destroying the offending book. Then I saw this..
It seems that the Igguldens are fans of classic poetry, including such writers as Robert Frost, Walt Whitman, and Shelley. Hmmm...impressive. Lastly, I saw this...
Okay, Igguldens, your book is spared. I guess there is enough worthwhile and safe and interesting within these pages to make up for the few really dangerous things that you encourage. However, I would like to point out that I believe my son was already dangerous enough before your book came along...
And so with that, I go to put my matches....what's this?....wait a minute...no, it can't be....
*sigh* |
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