My wild child


My wild child

We’ll continue this week on the subject of Warner. He, it seems, will be the wild child of the trio. Maybe, as the baby of the family, it’s his birthright. The experts say the baby of the family fights for attention and as a result can be the class clown and a daredevil. Warner certainly fulfilled the latter on two occasions last week.

We’ll start with the most terrifying. Some of you may recall that, shortly after we moved to our farm, Warner disappeared one morning. I had last seen him in the yard playing with the dogs. I couldn’t find him or the dogs and I was terrified because we have two ponds on our property. Heart in my throat, I raced to one pond and then the other, finding no signs of disturbance.

Long story short, just as the sheriff and fire department were arriving, Darin found him. He was fast asleep inside his closet.

Fast forward to last Friday afternoon. The kids were in the yard playing while Darin worked outside and I fixed supper. Suddenly, they all appeared at the back door, Warner was soaked to his waist.

“Nooo!” I screamed, knowing instantly where he’d been.

Sylvia had been with him, but she wasn’t wet. She claimed they were playing in the barn when Warner wanted to go to the pond. “ I was screaming at him, Mom,” she said. Darin told her she should’ve come and gotten him. I could see how she was between a rock and hard place; knowing Warner shouldn’t be in the water, but afraid to leave him.

Warner was crying – he knew what he did was wrong. He was deposited in a warm bath and I had to have a very difficult talk with Sylvia and Hays, explaining if someone – even their little brother – gets stuck in the water they are never, ever to try to go in to save him.

We have changed the rules so that should never happen. Warner and Sylvia aren’t allowed outside unless Hays is with them.

OK. Let’s talk about the daredevil’s other trick. This one was much more funny than scary.

Warner had climbed into bed with us Wednesday morning. It was early and I was half awake. I heard our cat, Smokey, climb into the window, as he usually does.

Then I heard Warner get up. “Mommy,” he said, “Smokey teached me how to be a cat!” Just as I opened my mouth to tell him to get out of the window, he was not a cat, there was a huge crash.

Warner bounced off my night stand, knocking the lamp to the floor. I jumped up and grabbed him, scared he’d hit his head. He hadn’t, all he had to show for it was a scratch on his chest. He didn’t even cry, amazingly.

I tried to explain to him that he was much larger than a cat and that the window is small, that he doesn’t have the balance like Smokey does. But I don’t know if he bought it.

There’s no telling what’s next with this little daredevil.


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