Feral

I have used this term countless times to describe our son. It is more appropriate a description now than ever. Thomas starts his day by waking up at 5 AM in his underwear (I am grateful he hasn’t started sleeping nude...yet). He clamors at the side of my bed until I get up and unlock the gate on our front door for him. Then he runs and puts his cape on, sheaths his stick sword in his underwear and runs outside giving a loud: “woot” “crow” “hollar”, none of words names quite describe the noise he makes. I asked him once why he always yells in the morning. He said, “Mom, I have to let the dogs know where to find me.” Of course.

Friday was a doosey even for the like of Thomas the “Wild Thing”. He needed an activity so I started him on some finger painting. Next thing I knew he was covered head to toe in blue drafters chalk. I had to chase him around the house (as he yelled “they may take our chalk but they will never take our FREEDOM!”) to rinse him off with the hose. Both of our door knobs are blue.

After I cleaned the chalk off of him I headed inside to make dinner and he headed for a huge mud puddle in our driveway. When I realized I hadn’t heard a peep in 2 whole minutes I ran out to find this little masterpiece. The mud slinging began and I literally had to hold him down with my foot to spray him off. Wisdom and Gloria were highly entertained and so was I!