We work on boundaries and direction and modeling every day because that’s what parents do. “They said he was a man who didn’t know when it was time to quit. “You know how they describe Thomas Edison?” I ask Brett later. More! We love more! We all have our something extra area–don’t we want our “more” to be celebrated? The subtitle reads “a guide for parents whose child is more intense, sensitive, perceptive, persistent, and energetic” with more in bold letters, and I smile. I pick up the copy of Raising Your Spirited Child that’s been kicked under the piano and wipe off the dust and dog hair on the cover. He’ll figure out what’s acceptable, and before you even realize it, you’ll have a mellowed-out little fellow.Ī year. “You got about one more year, and then you won’t believe how things shift,” she promises.

“It’s a phase, right?” I ask a mom friend whose once beautifully wild boy like Dash is all grown up and funneling his wildness into grand, world-changing efforts. When this phase is all over, you can always wake up and clean the mess. On the wall just past him, I can still see his crayon scribbles from last week–waxy swirls of bright red that curl around the wall into the hallway and haven’t been scrubbed off yet because sometimes in motherhood, I take the ‘possum approach: just lay down and play dead. “Don’t get me, mean dog!”He laughs and raises the ferocity of his act about ten levels, now throwing his body on the couch, flipping pillows and bearing his teeth. “No, I’m a mean dog,” he insists, adding an intimidating hiss and a swipe of his little hand curled up to resemble sharp claws. He’s a whirlwind across the living room, weaving between couches and coffee table, arms in the air, mouth open, growl bellowing loud enough to initiate a head cock from our deaf dog.

Wild hearts can't be broken book