The chap­ter “Things Boys Do” explores the unset­tling dynam­ics between fathers and their new­born sons through three dis­tinct nar­ra­tives. The first man wit­ness­es his wife’s trau­mat­ic child­birth, where the baby’s arrival is marked by eerie silence and a doc­tor’s eva­sive reas­sur­ance. The father is haunt­ed by the infan­t’s unnerv­ing white eye­balls and his wife’s sub­se­quent health decline, leav­ing him fear­ful of his own child. This seg­ment sets a tone of dread, ques­tion­ing the nat­ur­al bond between par­ent and off­spring.

The sec­ond man grap­ples with his moth­er’s insis­tence that his son is not bio­log­i­cal­ly his, adding famil­ial ten­sion to his wife’s post-birth strug­gles. The baby’s unset­tling eye move­ments and his moth­er’s accu­sa­tions cre­ate a atmos­phere of dis­trust. When his wife dies short­ly after, the man is left alone with John­ny, the child he strug­gles to accept. This nar­ra­tive thread under­scores themes of doubt and the fragili­ty of pater­nal con­nec­tions.

The third man, an adop­tive father, expe­ri­ences an inex­plic­a­ble unease with his new son. Despite his wife’s appar­ent bond with the baby, he feels judged by the infan­t’s stern gaze and notices fleet­ing gray flecks in its eyes. His play­ful inter­ac­tion turns to dis­com­fort, leav­ing him to whis­per, “You’re not a good boy.” This vignette ampli­fies the chap­ter’s recur­ring motif of chil­dren as unset­tling, almost oth­er­world­ly fig­ures who dis­rupt pater­nal cer­tain­ty.

The chap­ter cul­mi­nates with the first man’s grow­ing fear of his son Jon, whose pres­ence trig­gers vis­cer­al dread. The nar­ra­tives col­lec­tive­ly paint a por­trait of mas­culin­i­ty in cri­sis, where father­hood is fraught with unspo­ken fears and super­nat­ur­al under­tones. The boys, though infants, wield an unset­tling pow­er that desta­bi­lizes the men around them, chal­leng­ing tra­di­tion­al notions of pater­nal instinct and famil­ial har­mo­ny.