Helicopter Moms: Little boys can be gross

(Editor's note: Sometimes it's hard to tell whether you're tackling parenthood in the 21st century -- or being tackled by it. This is the latest in a series of reflections by UPI writers.)

NEWTON, N.J., Nov. 12 (UPI) --Field day at my son's elementary school last spring proved to be an excellent test for whether a hovering helicopter mom should interfere if her son is doing something disgusting, but not life-threatening or illegal.

My husband and I volunteered to chaperon our only offspring's outdoor games event last May and in between trying to help out, but not embarrass him, we marveled at how differently, even at 8, males and females of our species function.

Divided by gender into teams for various relay-type races, the girls time and again beat the boys because they were well-organized and worked as a team, while the boys, with all their unbridled energy and enthusiasm, frequently had to be prompted to stay in a straight line and pay attention to little things like the rules of the game and when their turn was coming up.

Lunch time was also an eye-opener. The children were all instructed to bring blankets or towels to spread out on the schoolyard blacktop, so they would be comfortable while eating their midday meal.

Most of the little girls quickly and quietly set up little picnics on their pretty Hannah Montana or Disney princess towels. The boys, however, were sitting eight-to-a-towel auctioning off parts of their lunches to the highest bidder.

It was at that moment I saw my little angel do something truly and inexplicably gross; he squirted his apple juice into a somewhat-empty can of ready-made tuna salad -- with mayonnaise -- and held it up to drink. Horrified, I was on my feet and ready to sprint the few yards to stop my son from doing so. My husband, however, was laughing uncontrollably and sputtering, "Let's see what happens." When I didn't look convinced, he added, "It won't kill him."

Well, I didn't think it would, but I thought it definitely might make him vomit, thus putting a swift end to our field day experience.

Cringing, I then watched our boy take a giant, fearless swig of the fishy brew and shrug as if to say, "Eh, not bad."

My husband shuddered, but insisted, "Little boys do things like that."

I let it go for the moment, heeding my husband's words of -- wisdom? And, of course, not wanting to humiliate my son by barking at him in front of his friends and making him appear uncool.

I asked him later, though, why he did it and was somewhat relieved when he told me he and the other guys were playing Truth or Dare. (At least there was an explanation for the odd behavior.) I pressed him to tell me what some of the other dares were and he assured me his challenge wasn't so bad. Another boy, he explained, had to open his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, slap it on the blacktop and then eat it.

I couldn't believe it. Where was I when that happened? I suppose even hovering parents miss things or have to pretend they don't see them from time to time -- especially when trying to give the kids a little freedom to be daring, as long as they're safe. At least my son recognized the stunts were gross. I guess that's something.