My sweet Baby J might be a tad misunderstood to those who don’t know and love him. I won’t excuse his tantrums or food tossing and I can’t curb his crazy but I can explain why I secretly love all the wild that he brings to the table.
Sharing stories about my middle man normally earns me the same shocked reactions. He climbs the bunk bed (oh!), even without the ladder (ah!), and has been recently trying to climb the bookshelf (oh no!). He’ll stand on a table and jump off if he pleases, he climbs chairs, pulls out drawers, paws through cupboards, dumps out toy baskets and frequently sneaks into the backyard when no one is looking. He does a lot of things that most people would consider naughty, but still I prefer to call him my wild one.
You see, a naughty boy doesn’t say sorry or please. A bad child has no room for kisses or thank yous. A monster wouldn’t bring toys and blankets to his baby brother and seal the exchange with a kiss on the forehead. No, he’s not any kind of naughty little monster, he’s just a little wild and that is perfectly okay.
Of course I want the boy to stop dumping his toy baskets but thinking from his perspective how else will he find the best toys? And certainly I don’t want him climbing bunks beds and bookshelves but that’s really just because I have a concern for his safety that he rarely considers. I love it when he’s jumping up and down, dancing all around and singing “row, row” and “E-I-E-I-O.” He is a little boy and it’s not so crazy to let him go on being little. He bonks his head, bruises his toes, splits his lip and falls over more times than I can count in a day but nothing ever stops him. There is a curiousity burning so bright in that boy and I will never try to put it out. If anything I’ll feed those flames because (like his Uncle and I just recently discussed) the boy is on route to become a grand explorer or an astronaut one day. There isn’t an adventure too big for him and I want him to keep that wild spirit for as long as he can, if not forever.
I love you sweet boy.