I love my boy. I never dreamed how crazy cool a little boy would be.
Trouble.
Untamed.
He’s my baby, and anything but.
He digs dirt, scales walls and hangs from tree branches like a monkey. Most meals he has manners like a savage and would prefer to live on meat alone. He’s been threatened with expulsion from our homeschool coop because he insists on carrying pocket knives into his first grade class and his persuasive speech will always give you reason to consider packing heat. He’ll take on any boy willing and wrestles with self-control when it comes to his sisters. He takes Lego creations seriously. He has his own tool bag, work gloves, and safety goggles- items he requires almost daily.
The bathtub is gritty when he’s finished and most of his jeans have been patched at the knees. He plays the drums and sings songs about Jesus and God’s love. His love is fierce and his heart is bold. He walks with purpose and stands like his daddy. Most neighbors know his name and he can chat about the weather with the best of the grown up world. People who know him, love him.