My Son, the Werewolf

The moon is nearly full, and Lucas sits at the kitchen island staring at his dinner, fists clenched in a ball at his sides. A low, guttural growl comes from his belly and I can tell it’s happening again.

“Control yourself, resist the urge!” I tell him.

He looks up at me, eyes flashing, face twisted in a dramatic display.

“I can’t! I can feel myself starting to change!” 

More panting and twitching ensues until I say “Ok, that’s enough, finish your dinner.”

His breathing slows, the transformation subsides, and he picks up his fork like nothing ever happened.

Lucas has always been obsessed with animals and is naturally gifted with a flair for the dramatic and a highly creative mind. So when his werewolf narrative began to form a few years ago, I shrugged it off as nothing. As a toddler, we would sometimes hear him making sniffling noises from the back seat, and whispering to himself “I smell coyotes” and we thought it was cute. That was only the beginning.

Admittedly, I probably encourage his lycanthropic obsession a little more than I should. One of his nicknames when he was smaller was “Luke-aroo”, a riff on the French “loup garou” or, werewolf. He has dreams where he runs with his pack through the night, and tells me wild tales about how he and his friend, Brandon (also a wolf), share the burden of being Alphas. We’ve watched a number of werewolf movie transformation scenes, and he agrees that “An American Werewolf in London” is the most accurate portrayal.

At this point, you may be questioning my parenting methods, and I wouldn’t blame you. It’s weird to have a kid that tells people with a straight face that he’s a werewolf, and does a howl so convincing and realistic that you may think there’s a real wolf nearby.

But he’s only 8. When is he ever going to have the opportunity in his life to be a werewolf again?

His wolf fantasy never gets out of hand, he never hurts anyone, and we’ve had discussions about him not “turning” at school. When he tells me his tall tales, we finish with a wink … he knows that I know that he’s just playing. It’s a fun way for us to connect, to leave the burdens of the real world together and get lost a little bit in a fantasy land that I had to leave long ago.

I know the day will be coming really soon when he doesn’t want to pretend that he’s a wolf anymore. I blinked an eye and saw his older brother go from silly elementary school kid to moody preteen. I won’t stifle his creative spirit, but I still sometimes wonder how to walk the line between fantasy and reality, and when it’s best to say good-bye to the wolf pack.

Until then, Luke is getting a pair of wolf pajamas for Christmas … he has to be ready for the next full moon after all.