I spend most of my time repeating what I say to Jackson. Sometimes, I have to grab his head, put my face right in front of his face, and explain what I need him to hear. It's almost torture for him, he tries to turn his head, he rolls his eyes around so he doesn't have to look me in the eye. I think he would love to exist only in his own world; where boys do not wear underwear, and peeing in the bushes at church is perfectly acceptable. In Jackson's world, he would not be required to eat his lunch in under 2 hours and there would not be any silly rules about throwing rocks in the house (What else could a wall possibly exist for? Clearly, it is for boys to see how big of a dent/hole they can make in it with rocks!) Jackson would romp around the neighborhood naked, except for maybe a band-aid, on a bloodless wound. He would never use a toilet, he would eat Popsicles for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He would climb everything in sight and only brush his teeth if he was hungry. There would be sword fights, monsters, Star Wars Clones, action heroes, dinosaurs, trucks, balls, T.V., candy and NO MOTHERS spoiling all the fun.
Well, my crazy little guy went too far today. He and his best buddy were throwing rocks and shooting foam balls out of a gun at a helpless baby bird. I received this account from my two breathless girls who either couldn't wait to tell on their brother or were shocked by the cruelty of it all. I am hoping the latter. Anyway, a few lies and denials later, Jackson burst into tears and admitted that he had thrown the rocks and shot the gun. I did everything I could possibly do to make him feel horrible and I could tell he already felt bad. This is my boy who gives hugs and kisses to all the old people in the nursing home(even the ones that smell) when we go to visit. What happened to my sweet boy?
I sent him to his room. He ran up the stairs sobbing. I came up a few minutes later and stood at the door. I could hear him talking and I was curious. He was praying. He explained to Heavenly Father why he thought it looked so fun to throw rocks and shoot the gun. Then he said he was sorry and wouldn't do it again. I melted. Jackson's prayer touched me deeply. You have to understand, this is the boy who refuses to hold still during a prayer, has trouble waiting until the prayer is finished to eat or say whatever his on his mind, and rarely folds his arms without being reminded. This is the boy who says the cookie cutter prayer every night inspite of constant admonitions to think before praying.
I guess he must be catching more than I think he is in that world of his. Oh, Jackson how I love your sweet, mischievous, innocent self. I am relieved that you will most likely not grow up to be a sociopath.
