Last night my husband went mountain biking with thirty strangers. He came home all pumped because he conquered the steepest incline on the ride while half the group watched. It didn’t really matter to him that only a few minutes later he wiped out big time while attempting to ride over a gnarly tree stump that most guys walked around.
I thought how strange it must be to be a man.
Then I remembered the big blue knot on my four-year-old’s forehead, earned by running smack into a pole at the park, while trying to show off for his friends.
Boy or man—what does it matter? One is just the grown-up version of the other!
Has the man in your life busted out his inner child lately?