This phase of–shall we say– intensity of spirit? Everything is surmountable.įor adventure lovers, girls and boys alike, some of Dash’s favorite toys right now that highlight some of his cherished things–dinosaurs, wheels and speed–are Nick Jr. And how I’ll look at him when these stories are retold one day–my tall, handsome, kind young man with a wild heart–and wish he was little again, if just for a day, to hear his dinosaur growls, walk by his wall art, chase him down the hall.īlaze and the Monster Machines remote control car How a fictitious call from “Officer Roberts” (/Uncle Bubby) got him to stay in his seat belt on a road trip one time long ago. How we once found him at the top of a tree (it’s true). How we’ll howl and shake our heads and remember how he stood on the minivan and swung from the garage door beams (it happened). Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Half Shell Heroes figurinesĪnd oh the stories we are collecting on this boy to retell at Christmas gatherings and graduation parties and in wedding reception speeches someday. There is no sieve, filtering out “too hard” or “too dangerous” or “too embarrassing” from what’s possible, from what he so desires.Īnd there is no canvas off limits for his art. And my very favorite thing about him inspires me: he fully believes and practices the idea that Everything is Surmountable. He is beautifully wild, not because he is a boy but because he is Dash. (Muddy fields are like blank canvases for this one.) But mostly, we lean in to everything each of our kids is–creative, persistent, adventurous, observant, and yes, even wild–and find ways for those things to shine rather than attempt to quiet them. We work on boundaries and direction and modeling every day because that’s what parents do. “They said he was a man who didn’t know when it was time to quit. “You know how they describe Thomas Edison?” I ask Brett later. More! We love more! We all have our something extra area–don’t we want our “more” to be celebrated? The subtitle reads “a guide for parents whose child is more intense, sensitive, perceptive, persistent, and energetic” with more in bold letters, and I smile. I pick up the copy of Raising Your Spirited Child that’s been kicked under the piano and wipe off the dust and dog hair on the cover. He’ll figure out what’s acceptable, and before you even realize it, you’ll have a mellowed-out little fellow.Ī year. “You got about one more year, and then you won’t believe how things shift,” she promises. “It’s a phase, right?” I ask a mom friend whose once beautifully wild boy like Dash is all grown up and funneling his wildness into grand, world-changing efforts. When this phase is all over, you can always wake up and clean the mess. On the wall just past him, I can still see his crayon scribbles from last week–waxy swirls of bright red that curl around the wall into the hallway and haven’t been scrubbed off yet because sometimes in motherhood, I take the ‘possum approach: just lay down and play dead. “Don’t get me, mean dog!”He laughs and raises the ferocity of his act about ten levels, now throwing his body on the couch, flipping pillows and bearing his teeth. “No, I’m a mean dog,” he insists, adding an intimidating hiss and a swipe of his little hand curled up to resemble sharp claws. He’s a whirlwind across the living room, weaving between couches and coffee table, arms in the air, mouth open, growl bellowing loud enough to initiate a head cock from our deaf dog.
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