Little Billy is a dare-devil.
He's been a dare-devil his whole life.
He's the sort of boy that has never shown a fear of wandering into the woods alone or racing his bike up a ramp that sends him flying into the air.
He likes fast motorcycles and go-carts.
He likes pellet guns.
He likes bows and arrows.
He likes chasing after animals and hiding in dark, scary places where no one will find him.
People have often commented that "Little Billy isn't scared of anything," and it is very true.
Not long ago, I was in my room working and I heard a noise on the roof.
I went out on the deck just off my second story bedroom.
I glanced up to the roof, held my hand in front of my face to block the direct sun from my eyes. I squinted and searched to see if I could spot one of our cats or squirrels making the noise above me. Suddenly ... between the sun and me ... I saw a small boy's silhouette standing on the peek of the house - two stories off the ground.
"Little Billy," I yelled.
"Yes, Mom," he answered casually.
"GET DOWN OFF THE ROOF!"
"Awwww, Mom," he grumbled, as he made his way back across the shingles and over to the tree he had used to elevate his tiny self to this escapade of danger.
He looked back over at me, "Can I have a hug?" he asked, knowing that maybe this request would soften his mother from beating the crap out of him.
"When you get down," I answered calmly.
On the upside ... I know -- this is not good -- on so many levels. But, this is not an uncommon occurrence for this boy child of mine. Sometimes, my mom will be at my house and she will suddenly announce, "Little Billy's on the roof," or "Little Billy's up in that tree - do you see him?" I know --- this is not good. But, this child is a dare-devil. I warn him to stay down from high places - I do! It scares me to death. But, I have to admit -- I also love the idea that he is a free spirit that follows the whims that entice him to live his life at accelerated speeds and exhilarating heights -- over a boy that is trapped in a life that brings him no joy or adventure.
I hugged the boy when he got down from the roof and I scolded loudly, "YOU'VE GOT TO STOP DOING THAT - YOU SCARE THE LIVING DAY LIGHTS OUT OF ME!"
He flashed his most charming James Bond smile and said, "Okay, Mom," and then went on his way.
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