Another lesson from little boys

After I got what I needed from the bathroom cupboard, my gleeful little helper toddled to the door to close it for me.  The latch is broken, but it stays shut on its own, when it is closed in a normal, calm fashion.  The child gave the door a happy slam.   

It bounced back open.

Another slam. Another bounce.

He tried the yell-and-slam.  The door bounced open again, condescendingly.

He screamed, affronted, but undeterred.  The door refused to submit, and it opened again in violent defiance of the two-year-old.

As rage boiled in his blood and cries of unintelligible fury came from his mouth, I scooped him in my arms and dragged him out of the room.  I was, of course, concerned for his victim.  The cupboard door may not withstand another attack.

He arched his back, defying me and railing against all that is evil in the world. 

I set him on the couch.  He jumped down and ran as fast as his legs would take him, back to the cupboard, back to the challenge.

He grabbed the door with both hands.  Forces unspeakable boiled in him and poured out in one last loud, raging effort.  SLAM!

Silence.  Behold, the boy was satisfied.

The door sat, open and silent, but its refusal to close was a feeble attack on his happiness.

The whole-hearted, whole-bodied door slam was cathartic.  The inner evil had been released.  Now, he could move on with his day.

Lesson learned:

Sometimes, it just feels good to slam stuff.