Today I want to talk about wild things and where they are. When I became a mother, I realized that they are everywhere. They're on the road. They live next door. They're in my house. I don't know exactly what to do about them, or how to come to terms with the fact that my daughters kind of like the wild things.
So I turned to the source for answers: Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak. I was nervous about reading this story to Hadley because the monsters are so scary! Especially the part with the Wild Rumpus! Just the word "rumpus" sounds scary to me. And the pictures during this part take up the entire page. It's as if Hadley and I are part of this world of Max's. There are no words on the page; nothing to focus on but the Wild Rumpus.
It reminds me of these parties we used to have in high school. They took place in the woods. If that's not a setting for a short story, I don't know what is. Anyway, you'd be sitting in class on a Friday and someone would say, "Party in the woods tonight." And you'd get a little tingle of fear and excitement. Should I go? Who else will be there? What should I wear? What if it gets busted? Where, exactly in 'the woods' is it? Oh yes, fear and excitement indeed.
We'd park in the parking lot of McDonalds and run across a huge intersection. How this wasn't a tip off for kids doing something they weren't supposed to be doing I'm not sure. Once we entered the woods, we walked down (what I think I remember was) a long path. You couldn't hear much, but you knew something was coming, and it was going to be pretty wild.
I look at Hadley out of the corner of my eye while I'm reading Where the Wild Things Are and I see how enthralled she is at this scene with the monsters. She wants to join in. I don't blame her - there's something thrilling about the Wild Rumpus. The stomping of the feet. The laughing too hard. The chance to be someone different for a bit.
The more I read the story, the more I like that Max tries out life with the wild things. He has fun with them. Great fun. But when the party ends, and he smells something delicious, he wants to go home.
And I hope that, like Max, Hadley knows how to get back on her boat and sail home when it's time. I'll always have her dinner waiting for her.
And it will still be hot.
**On a side note, a HUGE thank you to A Fuse #8 Production for the kind things that were written about my blog. There was definetely a Wild Rumpus going on when I saw my blog mentioned in your post. And for a little bit, I got to feel like a "real" writer.**
Sunday Morning Meds--Promises
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