Right now, my son is two and a half. He's a holy terror that tests the boundaries of his increasingly expanding world every chance he gets, and I love him to bits in spite of it. I was reading another mom's blog, about talking to your daughters about things like goblins and puberty, and I started thinking how I was going to go about explaining the same things to my son. Things like redcaps that will steal you into the night, kappas that will gobble you up and chin hair. Ok, maybe not chin hair. That sort of explains itself. But the other big things, like when he has those first special feelings toward another person, or what to do when the pixies steal his shoes in the night.
He needs to know that there are kappa in the world that will steal him away and eat him up the first chance they get, and he needs to know to never be afraid. A simple bow, after all, will get rid of the most ferocious kappa. He needs to know that his friends at school and elsewhere are equal to him, no matter what they wear, look like or have betwixt their legs. He needs to know to be loving and kind, not a horrible little monster that the red caps will abscond with in the night. I want my son to grow up in love. Not the kind of love that lets everything go, and doesn't see any wrongdoing, but the kind of love that lets him play in mud, chase faeries and have the kind of patient discipline that I remember so well from my granddaddy.
He has to learn that not every redcap is out to get him, and to tell the difference between the ones that are and the ones that aren't, and what to do if one decides he's lunch. I want to teach him about the magic that comes in the breeze blowing through the leaves, and the magic in the light of the moon. I want him to know that not ALL pixies are bad, mostly just mischievous little butts that think it's always a good time for a trick. I want him to not be like the pixies, and know when a good prank is in order-- and to know to never try to pull that crap on his mother, because I'll kick his butt back to the stone age. He has to know, *needs* to know that not everyone is going to believe the same way he does-- and that that's totally okay. He has to know that the world is a collection of many fantastic, wonderful, spectacular things and people, and that exploring this world is the greatest adventure he'll ever find... even if he runs into some beasties along the way.
Life is the greatest gift I ever could've given to someone-- the hugest thing I've ever done, and I want him to take that life and live it to the fullest. I want him to tell me about the faeries under his bed, his how he found the coolest leaf while he was going for a walk, to bring me home frogs and bugs and wonder at how the stars can be so far away but feel so close. I want to watch him try to reach out and catch the moon, to hold on to the wind, as I've seen him do so many times before. I wish with everything I have in me for his life to be filled with wonder, and for him to never be satisfied with a simple answer, even if it means I'll be hearing, "But *why*?" a million times. I wish for my son to grow up in a world full of monsters and magic, and to ask me all about herbs. I want him to know fear, at some point, so that he can experience the chest-bursting feeling of bravery. I want him to live every moment of his life to the fullest he can and to never, ever, give up his dreams. It's a world of faeries, kappas, redcaps and monsters out there-- but if he can walk through that world for the sake of one beautiful thing, I think he'll grow to be one hell of an amazing man.
My son, who is currently trying to eat his toes, won't read this for years (if ever). But I want him to know that I love him, even though I struggle with my own monsters, with every fiber of my being. He's my moon and stars, and every day, I get to hold the universe in my arms. He's my little trickster and my golden boy, and I hope that all the things I've written for him come to pass. He deserves it, the little toe-licker.
- Loki
