It was a quiet Sunday evening, and I found myself alone with my 3-year-old, Lily, who could easily be mistaken for a wild animal. My partner was caught up in church activities while our older kids were spending time with their grandparents. My sole responsibility was to settle her down for the night, which I soon realized was akin to coaxing a hyperactive raccoon after it’s had one too many espresso shots.
Lily kicked off the evening by sending her leftover food sailing off the table. My initial plan to tidy up after dinner quickly shifted to immediate clean-up mode to prevent further disasters. While I was at it, she decided to turn her dresser into her personal play zone, emptying it entirely. After a whirlwind of chaos, I managed to calm her down by playing a movie and creating a cozy floor bed—because, as any toddler will tell you, floor beds are way more exciting than regular beds.
Despite her insistence on watching “Curious George,” she remained restless, clearly searching for mischief. Ultimately, it was my presence beside her that brought her some peace. Each time she sat up, I gently urged her back down, whispering “night-night.” She giggled, treating it as a game, and after 30 minutes of our little ritual, she began to drift off.
As I lay next to this bright-eyed bundle of energy, I discovered a strawberry tucked into my pants. A strawberry! I was baffled. We had strawberries for dinner, so maybe it slipped in while I was cleaning? Regardless of how it got there, it was clear that my daughter had some serious ninja skills.
Just as she began to stir, I lingered by her side, attempting to extract the remnants of the strawberry from my pants while feeling that profound exhaustion that only comes from parenting a spirited child. I have to believe all parents of wild children are familiar with that deep, bone-weary fatigue that settles in after a day spent chasing an endlessly curious, hyperactive little being. While my first two kids were energetic, Lily takes it to a whole new level.
The running joke in our home is that if Lily had been our first, she might have been our last. Yet, as I lay next to her, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming love. Her laughter warms my heart, and I reflected on all the lessons she has taught me.
I’ve discovered that I have more stamina at 35 than I did at 25. My reflexes have sharpened immensely, allowing me to catch this little climber before she tumbles. I’ve also found that I possess a remarkable amount of patience, especially considering the two MacBooks she’s broken, the iPhone she tossed into the toilet, and the tablet that met its demise due to her kaleidoscope assault (impressive, right?).
I’ve gained serious upper-body strength from dressing her countless times daily, as she seems to prefer the nudist lifestyle. And I’ve learned to find humor in situations I never thought I could, like the time she scratched an itch and then snuck up to me during dinner, sticking her hand right in my mouth. Yep, that happened.
Sometimes, with a child like Lily, laughter is the only way to maintain sanity. Chasing her around, trying to keep her safe while managing her endless energy can be exhausting, but it’s also hilarious. Because of her, I’ve learned to laugh at challenges in life, whether at work or within the family. With Lily, everything is at full volume—which somehow makes the rest of life seem less daunting.
My partner and I have also become much better at sharing the workload. We’ve always been a team, but we’ve reached a new level of understanding. There are moments where words aren’t necessary; we just know when one of us needs to step in when Lily is off the rails.
I won’t deny that raising such a high-energy child has tested our relationship. There are days when I call home to check in, and my partner sounds so overwhelmed that I fear the house might be on fire when I return. For a while, I thought I needed to fix everything. But the truth is, nothing can change our spirited 3-year-old except time and two dedicated parents committed to guiding her into becoming a kind, functioning adult without stifling her spirit.
Instead of trying to solve every problem, I’ve learned to listen. I encourage my partner to vent, and once she does, I can hear the relief in her breath. Sometimes, she just needs to express her feelings to feel better.
Finally, as Lily settled into a deep sleep, I slipped out of my strawberry-laden pants and carefully carried her to bed. As I laid her down, she kicked a bit, making me hold my breath, but then I realized she was still running in her dreams. I tucked her in and kissed her soft blonde hair. As I closed her bedroom door, I couldn’t help but wonder what mischief awaited us the next day and what other lessons this amazing child would teach me.
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In summary, parenting a spirited child can be chaotic and exhausting, but it also brings countless lessons and moments of joy. Learning to laugh at the little things and supporting one another as partners make the journey worthwhile.
Keyphrase: parenting spirited children
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