In this post, I share about the privilege of allowing my young son a preview of the dance between a woman and a man.

Dear son,

Wow. You are a son.

What gives me as a woman the right to raise you, a boy?

You were my second-born.

When your sister came along, I could instantly relate to all the uniqueness of her being female.

I would be able to comfort her when those hot tears of confusion wet her face.

I would be able to talk her down from hormone-induced drama. (OK, maybe after she cooled off.)

Everything about you was different from the beginning.

You were bigger. Your bones were larger. Your muscles were stronger.

I knew that it wouldn’t be long before you surpassed your older sister in size and in strength.

Even now at four years old, it is clear to me that you will be much bigger than me when you are older.

What gives me the right to raise this boy who will tower over me some day?

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[image courtesy pixabay]