By Whitney Britton 
Have you ever heard the phrase “wild child”? What comes to your mind? For me, I tend to picture a young kid running around, who just won’t sit still. Their parents always look so tired. Bless their hearts.
Whenever I saw a family with a sweet, little wild child, I gave the parents an encouraging, empathetic smile, just thankful it wasn’t me. Until it was, and I was the one receiving those smiles. Bless my heart.
I have a wild child. I can’t deny it, and I certainly can’t hide it. It’s just a plain and simple fact that is out there for the whole world to see. When I was pregnant, I swore I’d have a permanent bruise from him kicking my ribs so hard. Even in the womb, he was my little wild child.
You see, my son lives by the philosophy, “Why walk when I can run?” He took his first step at nine months old, and a month later, he was running. We have not stopped since.
This past summer we went camping with several friends from church, and our church family got a little glimpse into what our daily life is like. At the end of the week, a friend said, “The only time your boy stops is to change directions.” Let me tell you, he’s not wrong.
My son is the kind of child people in the grocery store look at and say, “Well, he’s full of energy, isn’t he?” I smile and shake my head yes as he jumps beside me, turning down the next aisle.
He wakes up early every day and his favorite thing in the world is a no-nap day. He thrives on being go-go-go and loves to make people laugh. Admittedly, there are times it is uncomfortable and even a little embarrassing having what society calls a wild child. I know the looks. I know the empathetic smiles. However, I constantly find myself looking at him in awe. Yes, he exhausts me. Yes, we discipline when needed. But, we are trying our very best to channel his strong-willed energy for good because the last thing I want to do is discourage him from growing into who God created him to be.
He simply amazes me because in so many ways, I wish I were like him. I have never been as carefree, confident, and genuine as he is. He walks into the room without fear. He knows who he is. He is bold, brave, strong, and free. He wakes up every day and lives out who God created him to be.
As a mom, I find myself playing airplane with him, spinning around in the yard so fast until we both collapse in laughter. I play with choo-choo trains and trucks and pretend to drink water that he serves me from his restaurant. I don’t think twice about making a silly face or doing a silly dance, no matter who is watching. Because of him, I’m learning a little more each day to be a little more free-spirited, fun, and a little more wild.
I believe that raising a wild child will be the most exhausting and rewarding thing I will ever do. He wears me out, but he has healed parts of my inner child I didn’t know I needed to heal. I am no longer the six-year-old girl wanting the longer ponytail. I am no longer the teenager afraid to wear the wrong brand of T-shirt. I am no longer the insecure young adult worried about what the world is saying about me. I am the mother of a wild child, and at the end of each and every long day, I thank God for making my son wild.
by Shana Kim Smith 
by Kayleigh Ake 
