This is a long read, so if you’re not in the mood, feel free to skip it—but know that writing it was pure therapy as I internalized whether I am on the right parenting path. It feels like today could be unique to us – so I figured sharing the experience of just one day, might be relatable to some, or many. Or on the contrary, could this just be what it is like to mother a 3 year old boy? If so, God bless us all.
Morning
Otto usually wakes between 4:30–5:30 a.m. (if we’re lucky, he’ll sleep in until 6:00). Today was a miracle at 6:15—a holy grail of a morning! Instead of the classic tickle attack as he climbs into my bed, he darts off down the hall with the most adorable bedhead and a very specific request: “Where’s the Kanetic Sand?” (I don’t have any, and boy, was he disappointed.)
Instead, he dives into his marble madness and cuts up his wooden play fruit, and observes the velcro textures. “This side is soft, this side is prickly,” he says with the insight of a mini scientist, celebrating his unique way of experiencing the world.
After his daily dose of “morning media”, which mostly includes extreme water slide videos and wind turbines crashing – we head to GoPlay in East Greenwich around 8:30 am. He was following around this fellow playground patron because he looked like “Cowboy Jack” (if you know, you know) – and shredded the slides for a full two hours. Eventually, the verdict is unanimous: “Let’s go home.” He surprisingly knows when enough is enough.
On the way home, around 11:00 a.m., we stop at Walmart for the ever-elusive kinetic sand. Naturally, Otto commandeers the big seat in the cart, and requests that I push him through the isles as fast as my cardio allows. Back in the car, we hit the highway back to Aquidneck Island, and have a strict routine of counting backwards from 5 with every tunnel, bridge, or overpass—and yes, the sunroof must be down so he can shout, “Look up! Look up! Look up!”
Afternoon
Back home by 12:15, he spends a solid 45 minutes playing with kinetic sand. I am requested to sprinkle it over his feet so he can marvel as it slowly softens and slips away—each moment a small celebration of his sensory genius.
Next up is his indoor swing ritual over his bed. The routine is like a well-practiced dance: a few pushes, a pretend “toss” (which he feigns outrage at if not done just right), followed by him lying on his back to gaze at the ceiling. I then get on my stomach so he can crawl up, stand on my back, and launch himself off—if it doesn’t go as planned, cue the frustration rain. Yet, every twist and flip shows off his fearless creativity.
Then it’s time for the “Danger Zone” in the basement. With construction-grade scaffolding, a door propped at a 45-degree angle, and a trusty rubber mat, I teach him to body roll down the ramp. He does this at least a hundred times, each time politely asking, “Are you okay?” despite a few extra “battle scars” on his elbows and knees. His latest thrill? Jumping off his plastic slide in an attempt to reach the pillows below. Yes, he hurt himself (thank you, icepack!), but he was ready to try again—learning his lesson with every airborne leap. Very brave of him.
Late Afternoon
Around 3:00 p.m., we migrate to the kitchen to create what I call “an anxiety-ridden mess.” I’m not one to discipline creativity, so I let him do his thing. First, he squeezes paint from the bottles onto a canvas (because an artist always needs a proper backdrop) and then demands I refill the bottles with water. He is so resourceful, he never wastes a drop. Once the bottles are completely empty, he will then use his hands to move the paint around, really getting a full buzz off the squishy mess. The magic of it all, the paint is usually only on the canvas, or his body. My kitchen floor has held up pretty well.
Cleanup turns into another sensory delight when the buckets of soapy water and bubbles become his next outlet. Pouring water from cup to cup is just another way for him to explore…and to help (in his own, messy way).
Back to marble madness. Thank the lord, because right around this time, close to 4:00 pm, I start to internally fall apart, but really want to stay cheerful for the little guy. He is having the best day of his life. Just when I think I’ve got a moment to breathe, Otto decides, “Let’s do stuck!” and lies face down on the floor, demanding I plop on top of him. It's bizarre, yet endearing, as he pretends to be stuck, and tries to wiggle himself free. Only a self-regulation tactic that only he could invent. Sometimes he will ask me to do this out in public, and that is when I really enjoy the ride of having a sensory seeking son. How many people can I make feel weird today? I love it so much.
Once he's done being flattened by his mother, we move on to jumping on the couch. This isn’t your typical cushion-hopping; it’s full-on acrobatics off the highest edge, propelling his huge body like a tipsy flying squirrel. And when he lands on our leather couch, it sounds like a bowling ball bouncing off a trampoline—absolutely hilarious and perfectly Otto.
Evening
By 5:00 p.m., I say “Mommy needs a break” which he always respects. Otto, ever the little watchdog, makes sure I’m actually resting (sipping club soda or pretending to use the restroom—classic mom moves). Once he decides I’ve recharged, it’s time for the nightly chase game of “Mommy (or Daddy) is gonna get you,” – a hallway chase complete with wild growls and mock monster impressions. I can understand why this would be super fun, but as the “chaser” and never the victim, my body is now just running on fumes
Dinner is always brief, because routinely, he wants to TICKLE me at dinner. He always returns the favor of that joy. What a guy. So thoughtful. Post-dinner brings more jumping as Otto fights off any hint of a yawn. Then comes bath time, held in a huge plastic storage tote (I even drilled a hole in the bottom for drainage) because our stand-up shower just won’t meet his needs for his aquatic antics. Lately, he must bathe in his red bathing suit and a trusty pool floaty, and he splashes like an extreme water-slide hero.
When his energy finally winds down, I conduct his nightly foot rub and he spontaneously requests that I count to 100. With wide-eyed feigned discomfort, I do just that, marveling at his excitement for counting. Such a little math wizard. After a perfect tuck-in routine with two blankets, a bottle, a sound machine turned on, a globe light turned off, and a whispered “I love you,” he replies in kind, and the day gently fades away, like it never happened.
It’s only 5:45 p.m., his face in the semi-dark room, his soulful “I love you” staring right into my soul. I see a boy who is full of energy, risk, creativity, and heart—this little boy is so WILD – he is WILD by design. Every moment, every quirk, is a celebration of his unique spirit.
WILD by Design: Welcome to OTTO’S WORLD
If you’ve followed along with my journey with Otto, you know that while group outings like Little Tweets have been challenging, his confidence and voice grow stronger each week. For him to truly thrive, his need for stimulation, excitement, and sensory exploration must be met. That’s why this summer, Little Tweets is joining OTTO’S WORLD with “WILD by Design.” It’s going to be messy—really, really messy—but fun, inclusive, and crafted for every child who is wild, wiggly, and wonderfully curious. Expect sensory-rich nature play, movement-based learning, and hands-on exploration—from splashing at Sandy Point Beach to romping, digging, and climbing through Glen Park. Here’s to celebrating every strength in your child, every wild moment, and every wonderfully unique part of childhood. LEARN MORE
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