My children are strong and healthy and for that I am very grateful. They are, by some measures, exceptionally strong. The oldest, for example, has broken numerous school weight-lifting records. This past weekend, in Philadelphia, he and his classmates visited the famous steps where "Rocky" trained. He thought is would be fun to HOP up and down those same steps (leaving several students behind him, exhausted, as they tried to do the same).
The second-oldest throws shot put and discus competitively. Broad-shouldered, sporting a military haircut, he can be an imposing figure. He told me, before this band trip trip to Philadelphia, that when teachers need someone strong and responsible to serve as a helper, they call out for one of my boys. By that, I'm flattered and proud.
Yet, that same boy didn't have the sense not to take a knife with him on the trip. Now we are facing a hearing with the school district about this code of conduct infraction.
Raising exceptionally strong, boyish boys (a crop of them!) is exhausting.
The youngest two haven't yet learned to control their impulses. They are energetic and physical - spinning ceaselessly on the furniture when we go visiting, climbing the shelves in retail establishments when we go shopping, and climbing trees to the point that the trees bend over while I try to "sit" at home. They play with fire, knives, and saws.
They are fascinated by cammo, guns, and warfare. This weekend I bought a new kiddie pool (as an act of generosity). Before it was even filled with water, the youngest had broken it with a sharpened metal broom handle. He looked sad when I scolded him, both of us knowing that he was just "playing" when he struck the pool with the weapon his older brother had provided.
Strong, energetic children make BIG messes.
They rip through clothes, over-pour their drinks, and leave a wide path of destruction behind them.
It's a full time job to keep them safe...or perhaps more accurately stated, to keep our home and neighborhood safe from them.
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