I opened my eyes to minion talk and bear breathe two inches from my face. At 2 am. And no I wasn’t sleeping so this didn’t startle me; we’d been awake since 11 pm and this was just one of his many silly antics that night.
By God’s grace I find him endearing, and can smile and keep perspective (most days and nights) through the exhaustion.
Perspective that these all nighters surely will end. And I will desperately miss his little bear body beckoning me to hide and feed him at all hours of the night.
3 hours of sleep is the norm this month. I realize that makes me some sort of a vampire.
Some days I’m just angry, I was told sleep would come by now. The training and theories and well intended advice, that’s for other, less stubborn, less strong willed children. I have nothing less than a bear cub. And he will not be tamed or bribed.
And that energy, freedom, dare I say defiance, is what I love the most. He beats to his own drum and requires minimal sleep and oozes passion.
It’s not my job to break him down into this convenient (sleep oriented) box.
His is a wild spirit; my bear cub, too soon to be man cub.
It is my job to teach him to harness this spirit for good and truth and adventure. To rest and recharge in his ways, not mine.
What is most frustrating in him, is also most exciting.
I love this bear child and thank God for perspective and grace (for us both) on these long nights.