My son is growing up among girls – my friends’ daughters. The dynamic of playdates is an interesting one to observe. 2 of the girls are already discussing marriage plans, to which Misha graciously says: “Ok, whatever you say.” He is constantly reminded to be careful, because they are girls, share and be nice, because they are girls. I try very hard to raise him with an awareness that girls are not for hitting, or kicking, or boxing with. The stuff that you can do with boys, you just can’t do with girls. It’s a double standard that I’ve been drilling into his head for a few years now. Don’t get me wrong, he loves his girl friends, and they definitely love him back.
This weekend I observed him playing with 2 boys. They were digging. They were running, they were shooting each other with pretend guns, they were monsters, bad guys, cops and firefighters. They got wet and dirty, and rolled on the ground. They dragged mud inside the house. They might’ve broken a couple things. I might’ve had a few heart attacks. But Misha had a blast. Now I understand why my husband needs “guy” time with his friends once in a while. Too much estrogen. 
