“This must be it,” my son says, ripping into his next present in our annual present-giving ritual at Grandma’s house, a ritual that takes hours, one present at a time among several adults and a few children. My son is looking for Tommy Tippy, a doll he never mentioned and something that isn’t under the tree. We (Dad and Mom) don’t know if we should tell him and burst his bubble now or if we should let him rip into presents in expectation only to be disappointed when he’s opened the last one.
We’re silent. Decision by default.
We’ve never dealt with this before. Last year, I ran around the Toys R Us stores on a mad hunt for Constructicon, a Transformer in six parts where each part transformed from car to robot and back again, and all six could be piled up into one giant robot. The year before, I tracked down the A-Team van with the assiduity of Sherlock Holmes.
If only he’d mentioned Tommy Tippee.
The round robin of presents goes on until there are no more. Our son, fortunately polite at Grandma’s, says nothing. His silence scares me. Dinner is served. Everyone eats and talks. My son chews. After dinner, stuffed, we adults disport ourselves on couches while our kids put on coats and play outside. My husband and I close our eyes and pretend there’s no problem.
At last, we head for home. From the back seat, my son asks, “Is Tommy Tippy at home?”
Tempted to say, “No, he went on vacation,” I muster my best sympathetic tone and say “I’m sorry. He’s not.”
We complete the rest of our half-hour drive home in silence, bring our gifts into the house, and place them under the tree. Tomorrow is soon enough to put them away.
As we tuck our son into bed, he says, “Is it wrong to want something that badly?”
“What’s so special about Tommy Tippee?” we ask.
“He looks like Scotty.”
Scotty was a kindergarten friend who died of a heart attack one weekend. He was in class on Friday; on Monday, teachers had to explain why Scotty wasn’t coming back. This has haunted the children in his class and small school ever since.
“Why don’t we find a picture of you and Scotty and get it framed? You can hang it on your wall.”
We hug and my husband and I go downstairs, hoping that this small gesture will help him to heal.
By Paul DeLong
On December 12, 2022
“We (Dad and Mom) don’t know if we should tell him and burst his bubble now or if we should let him rip into presents in expectation only to be disappointed when he’s opened the last one…We’re silent. Decision by default.” Ah, the joys of parenting!
“If only he’d mentioned Tommy Tippee…” There will always be a “Tommy Tippee” around every turn.
“As we tuck our son into bed, he says, “Is it wrong to want something that badly?”
Wow! What an insightful question from one {I presume to be} so young!
“We hug and my husband and I go downstairs, hoping that this small gesture will help him to heal.” Gotta think it did, it will. If not, now, later. The impact of insightful kindness, especially to a child, cannot be underestimated. Thanks for sharing this piece!
By Aline Soules
On December 12, 2022
Thanks for reading it.