I’ve got a wild child, and honestly, it’s not my fault. My partner and I have done our best to guide him, but this spirited personality seems to have come out of nowhere. I certainly wasn’t like this as a kid, nor was his father. His older siblings are calm and collected, so this exuberance is genuinely a mystery. Before he came along, whenever I saw a child displaying such wild behavior, I would often think, “What are those parents doing wrong?” Now, I laugh at my former self.
It turns out that some children are just born wild. Their vibrant energy is woven into their being, making it difficult for them to tone it down completely. Sure, you can encourage them to calm down a little, but that wild side? It’s always there, lurking just beneath the surface.
As my son has grown, he’s become more aware of when he’s crossing the line, yet often finds it hard to rein himself in. There have been countless moments when I’ve wrestled him down, carried him out of public spaces while he’s in the midst of a tantrum, and even locked him in his room in sheer frustration. I’ve gone through sugar detoxes with him that felt like an eternity, spent hours in meetings with teachers and pediatricians, and tried every trick in the book.
He’s not a bad kid; he’s just wild. There’s a distinction, and I’m learning to embrace it. He can calm down after a punishment, but that untamed spirit always returns, sometimes even stronger. His antics are truly something else. He’s taken to creating a YouTube channel called “Caveman Chronicles,” where he grunts and makes silly faces for hours on end—an activity I’ve learned to appreciate as a little break for myself.
His exuberance knows no bounds. Whether he’s dancing nonstop at a wedding or using my baking supplies for some bizarre scientific experiments while I shower, he keeps me on my toes. I’ve had to be extra vigilant about safety, especially when he decided to turn my sewing needles into “secret daggers” hidden in the couch cushions.
His teacher was upfront on the first day of kindergarten, expressing her trepidation about having him in her class—she had witnessed the chaos he could create during pickup time. His room is an explosion of creativity, currently featuring a pot of dirt with a piece of gum in it as he attempts to grow his own candy.
I remember a particular grocery store incident when he was two; after an exhausting five minutes of trying to control him, he threw a can of green beans down the aisle—much to the amusement of a stranger who jokingly suggested he try out for a sports team. I had hoped sports might channel his energy, but after one season, he declared sports were not for him. Honestly, I don’t push it; I wouldn’t want him to steal the spotlight from the other kids with his opera performances on the sidelines.
In the summer, he’s up at the crack of dawn, harvesting berries from our backyard for breakfast. He’s got a knack for figuring out how things work just by observing them. His obsession with shows like Naked and Afraid suggests he’s prepared for the wilderness better than most, and he’s often bored at science camp because he’s already mastered the material.
Yes, I have a wild child. I’ve invested countless hours into trying to help him behave, and yes, I’m exhausted. But here’s the truth: I love him fiercely. He’s assertive, nonconformist, and unapologetically himself. While I strive to teach him when to dial back his wildness, I also cherish the unique traits that make him who he is. Some days, this balancing act feels impossible, but he’s my son, and I wouldn’t trade him for anything.
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Summary
In summary, raising a wild child comes with its unique set of challenges and rewards. While the journey can be exhausting, embracing their spirited nature often leads to a deeper understanding of parenting and love.
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