Swing kid

My relationship with Liam swings like a pendulum made of a spider's-silk strand.

There are times when his funny comments catch me just right and we laugh and giggle like two best friends.

Then there are times when he pierces my heart.

On days like today when he wakes up with a predetermination to wreak as much havoc in as many people's lives as he can. Baiting his little sister to do something naughty, tattling on her for a biting that never occured in hopes that we'll spank her so he can laugh at her berating, breaking a lamp and shattering the light bulb into dangerous shards all over the floor, just a spirit of general meanness.

My aching mind agonizes over what inside of him is so broken or so empty to cause him to choose such mean things as his way of escaping, assuaging his pain and confusion. I cry at not being able to get through to fix whatever is broken in his little spirit. My hugs, prayers, love, encouragement, teaching, agony doesn't seem to be enough.

But this one thing we have in common. He loves to swing, and although it tires me to the bone, I will keep pushing.