As he worked in photoshop, Bill kept repeating a line from a poem by Walter Dean Myers. "Love that boy, like a rabbit loves to run. Love th boy, like a rabbit loves to run." Now whenever John does something exasperating, such as rub a glue stick on Zoey's chair, someone in the family says, "Love that boy." I'm often saying "Love that boy" as I take John to time out, which is often.
Today is John's birthday, he is five and we all truly do love that boy. After witnessing an afternoon of John's explosive energy and astounding capacity for destruction, a neighbor boy nicknamed him Nuclear John. An apt name but John has his quiet side too. He loves to be read to and will be still for hours listening to a book. He also grows quiet and focused as he builds with his blocks. He picks me flowers and leaves me love notes on my pillow. I may be blinded by a mother's love, but I think most of John's wildness is simply an enthusiastic celebration of life. John never gives a hug with out a running start. I call them attack hugs.
Love that boy!