Wild rumpus afternoon.
All the wild things were over this afternoon. They pounded their chests and shouted in unison, “Let the wild rumpus begin!”
Tantrums, tears, demands, whines, outbursts, more tears.
And when the wild rumpus ended, there was no warm food waiting for “Max.” Just a tired mama and a reposed boy in her arms. And a desperate prayer together for grace. Because the wild things don’t just leave and go to their own homes.
They live here.