A SPIRITED CHILD

“Wow,” said my brother-in-law, “she’s a spirited child.”

“And I should be a spirited Dad,” I countered, “imbued with large amounts of liquor to deal with the dervish that is her!”

He looked at me, smiling. “Sure, sure,” he replied, “but she really is a spirited child.”

“Is that some sort of category, adjective or euphemism?”

“No, it’s an actual phrase to describe kids who are just ‘more’ of everything; more energetic, more perceptive, more emotional, more verbal, sharper, more resilient, just ‘more’…”

He saw my face dip.

“It’s not a bad thing at all,” he quickly followed up, “it’s a great thing actually, these kids usually grow up to have very active, gregarious and productive lives, but there are things to know about them in order to be able to deal with them properly.”

A spirited child. A spirited child. A spirited child. I watched her, the whirling fizzball of energy, the curious, the questioning, the demanding , the loving, the smiley, the laughing, the happy her. And it clicked that she was precisely this; a spirited child.

“I have a book about it that I’ve been reading,” my wife said, “I’m sure I’ve told you about it, or that you’ve noticed me reading it.”

Neither rang a bell. Because had it been presented to me, I’d have grabbed the lifeline with both hands. Because I have been wondering. And because I have been searching to know if she is a bit ‘more’ than most, or if it’s all been in my head, my 42 year old sometimes frumpy-grumpy head with it’s own myriad of little fizzles and crackles going on. And here was the answer. It hasn’t been and it isn’t. It’s very, very real.

I found the book underneath a couple of crossword puzzle books and I took it. I started reading it. And I learnt something new. After 17 years as a parent, I really learnt something brand, spanking new. It was a relief and a revelation. 

She is a spirited child.

And the context this has offered, the insight and context, is nothing short of a revelation. The book, the websites I have subsequently looked up, the people I have since spoken to about it, none of them suggest it’s a ‘condition’ as such, and damn right. It isn’t an illness. It’s a type. I suppose back when my Mum was young, they’d have scoffed at these ’sub-type’ definitions, they’d have talked of  making sure they eat well, sleep well and how a little smack on the botty never hurt anyone. But then, as my brother-in-law and his wife discussed the other night, these are the main customer base for therapists the world over. So as long as there are no drugs involved (as in ‘prescribing kids with drugs wily-nily simply because you cannot find another answer), what’s a little ’sub-type knowledge’ between friends?

It can only help. Help me understand the repetitive questions, the incessant refusal to accept certain answers, the almost pathological determination to do something which, err, shouldn’t be done. Because I know deep in my heart of hearts that she doesn’t know how ‘alive’ she is, how bright the fire burns inside her, how utterly, totally and completely overwhelming she can be. And I know that not only must I slowly make her aware of these gifts, this power, but that I must also continue learning how to deal with it. That isn’t to say I won’t yell, piss, moan, grumble or grishnackh once in a while, but I am hopeful that learning more about the things which push me to a grumble or ‘nackh will mean I can not engage in either so much. 

I always knew she was unique, this ’spirited child’ of mine. I’d say how much like her brother she generally wasn’t, save for their goodness, kindness and sociability. I’d refer to his ‘Hawaiian’ nature versus her ‘roadrunner’ speed, and I’d note how he never seems to worry whereas regular readers will have noted that she can meltdown over the loss of  hair-tye. This is the providence of ‘the spirited child’ and whilst the speed bumps will doubtless continue, I am finally aware that what at first seemed odd is now understandable, what at first seemed unfathomable is reasonable and what seemed daunting is actually wonderful. That energy. That passion. That perpetually upbeat demeanor…my spirited child…