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Four-year-old Barry was rambunctious and energetic. Gifted by God with charming smile, electric blue eyes and golden hair.
From the moment those mesmerizing blue eyes opened, to when they reluctantly closed in sleep after he had raced headlong thru his day, Barry had to be on the move. He loved to run, climb, throw, jump and crash. In many ways, he was a normal, high energy, little boy in blue shorts, t-shirt and tennis shoes.
Except for his tendency to be a forty-one-pound wrecking ball on a mission. His little body seemed incapable of operating at a normal speed for a preschooler. Mean spirited and deliberately destructive? No, not at all. He just had a nuclear-powered jet engine in a forty-one pound body, with only one speed – overdrive. If there were any brakes installed for slowing down that scary motor, they were well-hidden and rarely put to use.
Does the description of this meteorite on steroids sound pretty charming? A gorgeous, precocious and intelligent little boy who was loving life? Yeah, absolutely, until you looked around in his wake at what used to be your living room that now resembled a glorified trash dump. This child seemed gifted with an ability to destroy a living room in ten minutes flat. Nothing was safe around this kid. Draperies, coffee table knickknacks, tv, or table lamps – all were fair game in his world.
But to his credit, he never discriminated. Whether he was in his mom’s home, or in yours, it didn’t matter. He saw any place he was playing as his domain to be enjoyed – and accidentally obliterated.
This normal, energetic, intelligent and charming little one had only one problem, and it wasn’t him. It was his parents.
Because they “loved” him so deeply, and found his antics so impossibly cute and funny, they couldn’t bring themselves to do what was best for him. They never physically disciplined him. They put their own needs before his.
Their weak-kneed attempts at civilizing him were limited to adoring words of affirmation and gently spoken corrections, such as, “Barry, honey, you shouldn’t throw that bat in Mr. Carl’s house, that’s not a good choice.” Or, “Sweetie, please try to just play with some toys on the floor. I know you’re bored, but climbing this sweet lady’s drapes to try to touch the ceiling is not a good idea. You might hurt yourself.”
Tell me something, all you parents out there. How are little minds and bodies supposed to learn how to behave and act in society, when their parents lack the guts to say NO, and then won’t physically do whatever has to be done to enforce that word? That can result an energetic, untaught little four-year-old who will remind you of a lovable tornado, because a untrained and undisciplined four-year-old is exactly that!
Moms and dads, your God gave you a tornado to tame and train, that is your job!! Love your child enough to do that job.
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