Often a mother needs to adapt to the gross motor needs of her spirited boys. They must have a way to move their limbs, run, jump, bail, swing, kick, punch, push, climb, repel, fly and soar. Brain science supports our understanding of this need in their male development.
As most parents know there is a strong magnetic attraction between spirited boys and a puddle of mud. The two seem to find each other with a fine-tuned resonance that boggles the mind. As most mothers I was hard-wired with the notion that I was doing my job successfully to keep my spirited boys out of the abyss of a mud-puddle. I prided myself on the creative ways I had found to redirect, reward and discipline my little guys into not making the dreadful dive.
One day, the boys had maxed with three consequective days of rain and a limited indoor venue for their bursting energy. I was faced with the fact that the only way I was going to responsibly relieve the contents under pressure was to take a wet walk with them. The sun was beginning to shine, I grabbed a folding chair and checked my "common-sense" at the door on the way out. A mother with a mission, I marched my boys to the local ball-park and upon arrival announced that the assignment was to find the biggest, best mud-puddle on the field and jump in it! The looks on their faces was a priceless combination of grinning gratitude and heartfelt concern that mommy had finally lost her mind. My oldest son said, "Are you sure Mommy?" I reassured him that I was onboard and lucid with the family rules breach and then yelled, "Ready, set, go!"
Committed to my paradigm shift, I relaxed into my chair and enjoyed an hour and a half of unbridled boy frolic. It was heavenly for all of us and the peaceful flow of the moment was only briefly interupted by a gardener who shot me a glance of shame as if I had broken the first commandment of good mothering. The moment was a bit awkward so I invited him to join us. We both giggled with the collusion of the broken law and laughed with an undeniable assurity that we were both beholding moments of true joy in the life of spirited boys.
Note to Self: Mud puddles are my friend. Always bring an extra pair of dry shoes.
M Hancock
As most parents know there is a strong magnetic attraction between spirited boys and a puddle of mud. The two seem to find each other with a fine-tuned resonance that boggles the mind. As most mothers I was hard-wired with the notion that I was doing my job successfully to keep my spirited boys out of the abyss of a mud-puddle. I prided myself on the creative ways I had found to redirect, reward and discipline my little guys into not making the dreadful dive.
One day, the boys had maxed with three consequective days of rain and a limited indoor venue for their bursting energy. I was faced with the fact that the only way I was going to responsibly relieve the contents under pressure was to take a wet walk with them. The sun was beginning to shine, I grabbed a folding chair and checked my "common-sense" at the door on the way out. A mother with a mission, I marched my boys to the local ball-park and upon arrival announced that the assignment was to find the biggest, best mud-puddle on the field and jump in it! The looks on their faces was a priceless combination of grinning gratitude and heartfelt concern that mommy had finally lost her mind. My oldest son said, "Are you sure Mommy?" I reassured him that I was onboard and lucid with the family rules breach and then yelled, "Ready, set, go!"
Committed to my paradigm shift, I relaxed into my chair and enjoyed an hour and a half of unbridled boy frolic. It was heavenly for all of us and the peaceful flow of the moment was only briefly interupted by a gardener who shot me a glance of shame as if I had broken the first commandment of good mothering. The moment was a bit awkward so I invited him to join us. We both giggled with the collusion of the broken law and laughed with an undeniable assurity that we were both beholding moments of true joy in the life of spirited boys.
Note to Self: Mud puddles are my friend. Always bring an extra pair of dry shoes.
M Hancock
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