Parenting
Embracing My Spirited Little Adventurer
by Emily Carter
Updated: August 25, 2023
Originally Published: August 25, 2023
My youngest son, Leo, is a spirited little soul. While that’s the gentle way to put it, let’s be honest: he’s downright wild.
Wild. Just as the dictionary defines it:
wild: /wīld/ (adjective)
1. (of an animal or plant) living or growing in the natural environment; not domesticated or cultivated.
2. uncontrolled or unrestrained, especially in pursuit of pleasure.
Leo embodies all of these traits: uncontrolled, unrestrained, and untamed. And because of this, I often find myself feeling utterly exhausted.
His “natural habitat” coincided with the tumultuous end of my first marriage. He was the final addition to a family of two weary parents trying to salvage what was left as everything around us crumbled. Leo would roam between my ex-husband and me in our bed. I welcomed him there, partly because he was my last baby, my smallest child, and also because having him nestled between us created a comforting distance from the tension of our failing relationship.
As a result, my son became accustomed to being close to me, nursing on demand like a curious little cub, seeking comfort whenever he needed it. Over time, I began to notice certain things.
I observed how he was rarely satisfied, how he clenched his fists in impatience when he had to wait for food or attention. I noted the wild sounds he made while eating, desperate and gulping, as if he could never fill the void. He always wanted to be held and fed, and while I wished to encourage his ability to self-soothe, I often found it easier to simply quiet him to find some peace amidst the chaos of family life and a struggling marriage.
Eventually, I started to blame myself for his wild nature. I thought it was my fault for feeding him too readily instead of allowing him to learn to calm himself. I held on too long, driven by the grief of endings and the joy of new beginnings. Leo found himself caught in the space between two people who couldn’t let each other go.
But that chapter of my life came to a close. As the years passed, so did Leo’s wildness—it only intensified. He grew into a handsome, strong, sweet child who adored his family and friends but couldn’t grasp concepts like “gentle” or “moderation.”
He was a whirlwind, always trailing behind me. I often found myself repeating the same phrases like a broken record: “You can’t jump on the couch.” “Please sit down while eating.” “Close the door!” “Where are your shoes?” And on and on, until my throat ached and my patience wore thin.
At first, I thought his rambunctiousness was confined to our home until he started school and the notes began arriving home: “He’s a kind boy, but struggles to sit still.” “Leo is sweet, though he has difficulty keeping his hands to himself.” I’d glance up from these notes and see him devouring his fourth piece of string cheese while rolling around the living room floor.
“Oh, Leo,” I sighed, resting my chin on his sticky neck. “You need to stay in your seat in class. You can’t touch everything or everyone.” He would hug me tightly and whisper, “I know, Mama. I’m trying.”
Sometimes, he resisted going to school altogether. “What do you do all day, Mama? I wonder about you,” he asked one morning, and I felt a wave of worry. I feared he might escape school like a clever little monkey breaking free from its cage. Each day he returned home was a sigh of relief.
This cycle of worry and relief is a testament to the wild love we share. At night, Leo always requested to be tucked in last. After saying goodnight to his siblings, I would squeeze into his twin bed, which was crammed with toys, books, and comfort items. It was a tight fit, but as I nestled beside him, I felt him relax, and I often drifted off to sleep, lulled by the rhythm of his breath.
Leo’s wild nature has grown alongside him, as he’s moved from my bed to his own little sanctuary. I’ve tried to tame his spirited heart because I believe there’s value in fitting in and finding one’s place. Isn’t that what a mother is supposed to do? To guide and temper even the most unruly?
But here’s the truth I often keep to myself: I admire his freedom. His wildness exposes him to the vast world around him. He loves fiercely, bouncing back every time he falls. He finds comfort in familiar scents and seems blissfully unaware of the societal expectations that weigh down most.
He’s still small; we have time. Even though parenting can be exhausting, we’re taking it one day at a time. There’s still room to explore his wild side before it fades away entirely.
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Summary
In this heartfelt reflection, Emily Carter shares her experiences raising her spirited son, Leo. She recounts the challenges and joys of parenting a wild child, navigating the complexities of love and freedom. Despite the exhaustion that comes with his boundless energy, she recognizes the beauty in his unrestrained nature and the importance of allowing him to explore the world around him.