Son Up to Son Down

We were preparing for school pictures last week and my middle child was adamant on having “rock and roll hair” for his. I tried and tried to talk him out of it, but he kept insisting that he has a mohawk for his picture. I showed him how I was going to do his brother's hair in a nice side part, and pulled out a new polo, hoping the brand-new shirt would sway him. As much as I hoped he would forget about the hair, he never did.

He’s my wild child. Or a “strong-willed” child as some will delicately put it. He doesn’t take no for an answer, though he often gives it as one. There’s not much that phases him in regards to consequences, so all the time outs, early bedtimes, and toys being taken away doesn’t seem to bother him one bit. He will do what he wants, when he wants, and he will do it loudly. He’s got two speeds: fast and faster.

He doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. Most days, he wears his clothes inside out, backward or both. (Half the time I think he does it because he knows it bothers me). I know it’s not his sole purpose in life to do the exact opposite of everything I say, but that's exactly what it feels like. He’s always dreamin’ and schemin’ and wakes up every morning ready to attack the day with a vivacious attitude unlike any other. But that same little boy has the kindest heart and loves so big. He knows just what to say to make me melt, and knows just when to say it. Those big blue eyes, hair sticking out all over, and that naughty little grin can set the world right in a second. As you can imagine, this is both a blessing and a curse.

He is relentlessly stubborn and endlessly energetic, two qualities that I know will help him change the world. I have many years and gray hairs ahead of me and a long road that I have a feeling will be mostly uphill. It will take lots of deep breaths, a profusion of coffee and even more wine. If he wants to wear his hair in a mohawk for school pictures, so be it. You do you, little man. Don’t let anyone tame the wild out of you.