Born wild they said.
I had been warned...
little boys...
they are wild from the start...
They told me. I believed them, to some extent, or so I thought. But just how was I to know what exploring really meant to a boy barely even able to walk yet?
As a little girl I scraped my knees, dirtied my clothes, walked invisible planks and sailed invisible ships
But now I see that I never instinctually knew just what swashbuckling meant. I didn't hoist curtains or climb rope ladders made of thin air... or the backs of chairs.... at least not that I can remember.
But at eleven months old he already loves a good chase... whether it's him chasing us or us chasing him makes little difference. A spark of willful, determined disobedience in his eyes.
Defiance.
But Mommy can't you see....
it's dreadfully clear...
that your baby son is none other than a pirate!
And so I watch as he learns and grows knowing in my heart of hearts that sooner, rather than later my son will take to the sea...
...without me.
