When Fantasy Explodes into Reality

I woke up to the sound of my son sobbing twice over the past couple weeks. The second time I cried myself for a few minutes before I went in to console him. I already knew the reason why.

A couple weeks ago, my son lost a tooth completely without warning...at least to me. He hadn’t mentioned any loose teeth at all. He hadn’t been wiggling any teeth that I knew of. I was taken by complete surprise when he came home from karate and announced, “Mommy!! I lost another tooth! Quick! We have to tell Nute!!” Nute is my son’s personal Tooth Fairy. He wanted me to e-mail Nute to inform him that he had lost a tooth and request a specific, small gift. The e-mail wasn’t a problem. The gift was a huge problem. I had something similar hidden, which I planned to put under his pillow, but there was absolutely no way I could get the gift my son wanted with such short notice. And my son even added, “If Nute brings me what I want, then I’ll KNOW he’s real!” Ouch. Evidently friends of his with older siblings told his friends that the tooth fairy wasn’t a reality. And I could tell that my son wanted to prove them wrong.

I blame myself for this fiasco I found myself in. Every Mom I know only gives their children money when their children lose a tooth. I love lavishing my son with extra “goodies” whenever an event will allow it. I have him save up his own money to buy items he wants in between holidays and events. But I’m a sucker for my son’s happiness, especially in light of an impending divorce. I know I shouldn’t do it; I should either spend more time with him playing or give him extra attention, (and I usually do). But setting the precedent by giving him small toys as tooth fairy gifts is now not only making me want to kick myself, it forced my son to face reality in a terribly painful way.

Two weeks ago, I heard my son sobbing while I was still in bed. I panicked and raced out of bed and into his room. He was wrapped up with his covers over his head and the toy I had put under his pillow was thrown across the room. I didn’t even have to ask. I sat down next to my son and hugged him, rocking him back and forth. In between sobs, I heard, “Nute is not real!! They told me he wasn’t real and I didn’t believe them (evidently his friends)! But they were right! I hate Nute!! I hate the tooth fairy!!” The pain of reality was almost palpable. I started crying too. How do you apologize for wanting to be a really good Mom?? I tried to convince him that the toy was close to what he wanted and that maybe Nute just couldn’t get exactly what my son wanted? My son sobbed even more, “No!! There IS no Nute!! There IS no Tooth Fairy!! Nute would have gotten me what I wanted if he was real!! He’s not real!! He doesn’t exist!!” I didn’t say a word. I had nothing I could say that would take away his “growing pains.” The pain that every child has to feel eventually. The pain every child has to work through. The pain that slices through a Mother’s heart.

Fast forward to this past weekend. My son and I went to an Easter Carnival with some close friends and their kids. There were Hula Hoop contests and Sack Races, a Magician displayed magic tricks and crafts were available to make foam bunnies or sheep. Considering that it was indoors on a miserable, cold, raining day, it was perfect for our active kids. When the carnival was over and we all went back to my friend’s house. All of the children got into a discussion about what the Easter Bunny would bring them the next day. Knowing that my son is the only child on earth who doesn’t like anything sweet (definitely one of his redeeming qualities), he wanted the Easter Bunny to bring him the same toy that the tooth fairy failed to bring him. Damn! Why hadn’t I bought this toy and had it stashed?? Last year my son was obsessed with these toys called GoGo Crazy Bones. They are each small enough to put into a plastic egg, so I filled some eggs with the GoGos and put in other little trinket type items in some of the other eggs. The Easter Bunny ruled last year!! But what was I going to do this year?? I had nothing small enough to put into plastic eggs for my son. Or did I?

I have a basket that we put all of our spare change in. It is overflowing with pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters. I counted out five dollars in coins and dispersed them in some plastic eggs! This way my son could get a head start working to save up for the toy he wanted! How clever I was! I filled and arranged a basket and set it out for him to dig through when he woke up! I even included a seed packet of carrot seeds that we could plant because I remembered my son reminding me that we had to buy vegetable plants at the school plant sale that was coming up! I felt that I had redeemed myself after the Tooth Fairy fiasco.

The next morning I again woke to the sound of sobbing coming from my son’s room. I knew exactly why he was crying and I just couldn’t face my son’s pain so soon after his last dose of reality. I stayed in my bed, tears streaming down my own face as I listened to this heart wrenching pain. I finally dried my face and slowly walked into my son’s room. Coins were strewn everywhere. The basket was overturned and the shredded paper was pulled apart and littered the floor. Plastic eggs were among the shreds. My son sat on his bed, tears streaming down his precious face. Again, I had nothing to say. I walked over, sat next to my son and held him. He mumbled, “The Easter Bunny is a fake also.” I asked why. He replied that the Easter Bunny didn’t bring him the toy he wanted either. I halfheartedly tried to convince my son that the Easter Bunny probably gave him enough coins to come close for my son to buy the toy he wanted. I also offered to collect all of the strewn money and give him dollar bills in return. He just shrugged and continued to quietly cry. This time I not only wanted to kick myself, I wanted to give a swift kick to the fabricated Easter Bunny as well!

It’s impossible to avoid the growing pains our children must endure as they mature. If it’s not the Tooth Fairy now, it will be the rejection of a “crush” later on. And it will continue, right into adulthood when your child goes on a job interview, only to receive a call informing them that another candidate was chosen. Our children will survive each of these reality checks. And they will learn how to better cope each time another one comes along. But for a Mother, each of these will feel to her exactly like the first. And a little part of her heart will feel wounded with each “blow.” Many years from now, she even may find herself lying in bed, with tears gently sliding down her face. Almost like the very first time.

Through the Generations

My son has been learning about the value of coins in school. To help him with his homework, I took out a basket of coins we use to throw our spare change into, and started laying the coins out to show a visual description to assist with one of the homework problems.

All of a sudden, my son noticed something interesting. He found a Wheat back penny among this basket of coins! For those of you who are unfamiliar with Wheat back pennies, instead of a picture of the Lincoln Memorial on the back, the words, “One Cent,” are inscribed.

I found this remarkable for several reasons. First being that Wheat back pennies are so rare (they were minted only for 50 years, between 1909 - 1959), secondly because I started my own collection of Wheat back pennies when I was around my son’s age (I must have close to 50 of them by now). Thirdly, because now my son wants to start his own Wheat back collection.

The fourth interesting reason is that my son spotted a bag of pre-started coin rolls and wanted to use them to roll the coins. When my father was still alive, I would give him our basket of loose change and the paper coin rolls, and he would spend enormous amounts of time putting the change into the respective rolls. He would then take the rolls to the bank and cash them in for me. He always took such pride in what he did and felt a sense of accomplishment in rolling those coins for me!

Now that my father is gone, I find it fascinating that my son wants to assume that same exact activity. As tedious as it is, both my father and son get a sense of accomplishment from rolling coins. We told our son that if he lays out the correct number of coins to fill a roll, correctly identifies the value of the coin roll, and then fills it, my husband would take him to the bank to “earn” his keep. It is a motivating learning experience.

But I have noticed this about my son; he has my father’s quality of enjoying working on tedious projects. I used to give my father all sorts of projects I just found too tedious to take on, and he would gladly do them all! The one I miss the most is ironing! My father used to iron our clothes because between a toddler and 2 rambunctious dogs, I didn’t want to risk having the iron accidentally pulled off the ironing board and scorching someone. So I would happily give all of my ironing to my father to do! I’ve become so spoiled, that now it’s become, “dry clean only,” in this house. And I rarely buy 100% cotton!

But back to my son and his new obsession. I find it fascinating that my son has not only taken an interest in something that I also have an interest in. I find it equally amazing that he has also embraced the “joy” of rolling coins, just as my father had. I continually find it amazing how you see not only yourself in your child, but can also see close relatives, with all of their “quirks,” in your child. How remarkable. And what a gift. And now my son has 2 Wheat back pennies to start his own collection! Such an unexpected treat!