I am in great need of a farm. Well, maybe not the whole farm since I know nothing about farming and am an untested grower of green things at best, but at least a barn and some land. Because I have boys. As my boys grow I am seeing more and more why early frontier times had the early years of boys outside all the time. There is just something in their make-up that desires dirt, destruction and dominance over anything. And stuck in a house, they will devise toys, my furniture or my stuff into a substitute for that outdoor living.
They will chase each other for hours racing cars around the house, crashing into each other or knocking each other over to exert power.
They will take any stack of soft things…my freshly laundered towels, sheets, pillows, or bean bag chairs and re-recreate what can only be described as trying to jump from a hayloft into bales of hay. I find them jumping off my couch, my table, their beds into piles of whatever.
No volume control. I can get 30 seconds of a whisper voice when I correct them and within the next minute they are squealing like pigs in the mud at the top of their lungs.
I yearn for the ability to put them outside for hours on end, letting them be loud, bash and crash and destroy things. Because for boys, in the end, this is the ultimate playground.