Wild Thing

Have you ever been a wild thing? Ever growled so fiercely that the back of your throat burns raw? Ever bared claws and gnashed teeth and rolled your terrible yellow eyes?

J has.

And E has.

And M probably will. Whenever he gets teeth, that is.

When E is wild, it can be scary. If you're his cousin and he's coming at you with a pointy stick, that's scary. If you're that poor girl at preschool who didn't see the shove coming until it knocked her off her pretty pink stocking feet, that's scary too. If you're M, all of six months in this world and literally unable to get his body out of the way before E is on him, well...you get the picture. 

Here's the part we don't often see: E is scared too. Big time. 

J learned that tonight. She lost her cool when E became wild and instead of sending him to his room without any supper, she threatened to eat him up. She almost did. Poor E. He hid behind the shield of his laundry hamper until he felt strong enough, settled enough to hear her apology and hold her outstretched hand. J felt like a bully and a beast, but she did her best to make it right. She cuddled both her babies, read them stories and sang them songs until they both, ever so magically, drifted safely and soundly off to sleep. And here she is now, typing. Wondering if she is the last (for she knows she's not the first) to wish she were better, to realize how much power there is in parenting, and to be humbled by the reminder that we're still human, still frail, still and always learning how to be in this wild world.