When I was a kid, we always went to grandmother's farm for summer and Christmas vacations. I adored my sweet, patient, kind grandmother, not to mention her tins of chocolate sheet cake and cookies that always waited under the bench in the hallway. But even more, I loved hanging out with my cousins.
Looking back, I'm amazed our parents seemed so relaxed as we roamed around our grandmother's farm like a pack of unruly wolves, getting into trouble every other minute, making so much noise I think we scared off every owl and fox between the mountains.
But man, we were happy. Those sled rides, those games in the attic and orchard and fields and woods! We kissed cats, we chased cows, we splashed in the icy stream.
That's the kind of parent I would like to be. One that facilitates roaming and noise and adventure. I want wolf cubs. 
Magnus has had a rough winter, but at least there's this: When I ask him if can howl like a wolf, he always answers: "Aooooooooooo!" It's a start.
