Wild Things

This weekend, Jasper played with monsters. Big ones.

And he loved it.

It was at Bunch's Where The Wild Things Are Wild Rumpus, and there was much, much rumpussing of the kind that can really only be done in the presence of monsters.

Jasper's a little young for the movie, and I don't know how much he yet understands of the book, but end of the day, his familiarity with the characters and the story didn't - doesn't - matter. Dancing with a monster holds a joy all of its very own, whether that monster be one of Max's monsters, or Elmo, or Grover, or that big orange one that Emilia insists lives in the closet.

Because dancing with a monster is the very essence of what it means to be a child - it is to look at a being who is very, very different from you, and to see only someone to cuddle, to dance with, to hug. To see only a friend.

And then to get on with the party.

My heart grew a few sizes this weekend, I think.

Catherine blogs at Her Bad Mother and Their Bad Mother and everywhere in between.

Original post to Canada Moms Blog.