I am trying so patiently and so peacefully to understand just what gets into a 4 year old boy that could make him call me a "stupid poop head mommy" and start swinging.
I started to read Raising Cain, I am not far into it yet but I am sure some mystery will still remain at the end of it. One thing I do understand though is that he has a need to be tough and awesome and in control of himself. My daughter had this same need for control around this age but it came out in puddles of tears rather than what looks like anger.
I am not sold on the idea that this is anger. Deep in his eyes there is something bigger. Something that looks more like sadness and defeat. As if my control over him means he is powerless and not the tough, spirited boy he thought he was. I have won, and in that he is somewhat wounded.
Now, of course I can't let him just run wild but I am trying to loosen my rope a bit and let him feel free. This means bounding through the supermarket, balancing on ledges, stomping in mud, climbing the unclimbable, while I hide my fear and pray.
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