For years my five year old son thought toys simply appeared in our home, materializing out of thin air and good behavior. I would pick things up for him, stash them, and bring them out when it seemed we needed a new distraction, or a happy reward.
Oh, sure, I took him shopping. As a baby, he couldn’t keep track of what he’d seen in a store and what appeared at home. When he was a toddler, I explained that the toys on the shelves didn’t belong to us, so he could look for a minute and then we would put them back. It was the truth, and it worked. As far as he knew, none of the toys ever made it into our cart, and he never saw me actually buy anything. He was never with me when I returned and purchased the items for him. And he would jump up and down excitedly when something appeared in his playroom or from behind my back. It was BRILLIANT.
Now don’t get me wrong. I love my son, and want him to have all kinds of cool stuff. And he has loads of it, much of it purchased by me. But I never wanted to end up standing in the toy department hissing “Just stop crying, you’re not getting anything today!” Was I more afraid of what he might become, or I? Perhaps it was a bit of both.
Then one fateful day last year father and son burst through the door, faces flushed with excitement, eyes sparkling. Realization dawned. They had been to The-Place-Where-Childhood-Greed-Is-Born! That’s right, the toy store. Wall to wall, floor to ceiling, underfoot…TOYS. My son was beside himself. “We went to (The-Place-Where-Childhood-Greed-Is-Born)! And I got this leaf blower! And this truck! Daddy LET me!”
If our household had a control panel, there would have been a big flashing red button signalling systemic failures. Communication, planning, trust - all compromised. Okay, that’s not what I want to write. What I really want to write is that was the day my husband BROKE our kid.
I’m just kidding. He isn’t broken, and he’s still his sweet self. It’s just that now he knows the truth.
But it’s okay. It was bound to come to an end. And besides, the other day I had the most delightful time shopping with my eleven month old. We talked, and laughed, and she admired all the things I showed her and put in the cart. I know she will be excited when they make their magical appearance later on. I’m sure I have at least another year or two of this, as long as my son doesn’t spill the beans!
And I still keep a stash for him anyway.
Printer-friendly version