In perusing the Washington Post today, I found a fascinating write up on Superbad as seen through the eyes of a father and his fifteen year old son.

Now, there are a few things I know about. I know I’m a girl, and our feelings and reactions to the world around us aren’t as out there as a boy’s are. Boys are visceral, in the moment beings, and in some small, pop psychology way, are as vulnerable and obvious as the sexual organ they possess that makes them boys. I remember the first way I explained the difference between girls and boys to my toddler son was to tell him that “boys have outside zizis and girls have inside zizis.” (Zizi is the French euphamism for sexual parts).

So imagine the consternations boys must face when their outside zizis start making public declarations of their interest in the more… inner sex? I still remember the name of the boy in our class who was constantly afflicted with erections. That’s got to be something nigh unto impossible to live down.

Please do read this article about the movie, from a teen-aged boy’s point of view, ’cause if you’re a single mom, you’re going to need backup:

Upon first watching, it was simply a groan-inducing eye-roller for me. But through my son’s eyes, that gag — and the movie in general — became one of vulnerability, not rudeness. And even unmentionable subjects such as how to conceal an erection when you’re in class resonated with a sort of weird gravitas. It was something, after all, that teenage boys would talk about. “Imagine if girls weren’t weirded out by” such things, Evan declares at one point, with visionary passion. “And just, like, wanted to see them. That’s the world I want to one day live in.” (Son, dream big, but don’t dream crazy.)

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