Gary and I may not be the most gentle people around (we’re not), but it’s not like we purposely rough-house with Remy just because he’s a boy or something. He likes being thrown up into the air (not dangerously), hung upside down and in general being swung side to side and all around. We know he’s liking it because it makes him laugh hysterically. It’s interesting that he likes that stuff because he’s a pretty careful little guy when it comes to trying new things. He’s not one to jump into the ocean with both feet without checking for sharks, if you know what I mean.
Besides the penchant for parental rollercoaster action, he shows other ruff n’ tuff characteristics. I understand that as an infant, I enjoyed sitting around looking at the pictures in magazines. Remy enjoys sitting around and tearing magazines to pieces and waving them in the air while grunting, growling and spitting. I’m pretty sure I didn’t teach him those skills. Maybe we didn’t discourage them specifically when we laugh at the cute baby making funny sounds. You can see why he’s not allowed to play with the library books (much to his chagrin).
Prior to having my own child, I was unsure of how different little boys and little girls really are naturally. I mean, sure, there’s no guarantee that we’re treating him exactly the same as we would a baby girl, but I’d like to think that our household isn’t a den of gender stereotypes with athlete-working Mom and awesome caretaking-dinner-cooking Dad. But Remy’s a BOY through and through. Stick a pink bow on his head and he’d just look silly.