Suburban Oblivion

I was going through unapproved blog comments just now and ran across a comment from someone I’ve not heard from before, Gidge from Live From the Wang of America.  I checked out her blog, and ran across a gem I just have to share.

In her post, The Near Death Experience of Tinkerbell, Gidge describes the emotional chaos brought on by the simple question of a child- “Is Tinkerbell REAL or not?”.

I feel her pain.

I recently had my own moment where the very lifeblood of Santa, the Easter Bunny, and in that particular case, the Tooth Fairy all rested in the hands of my 10 year old. You see, with the divorce going on, I am now staying on the couch in the kids playroom, and all my stuff is in the closet in this room. The kids are fascinated by all the clothes, books and personal items they previously had no access to when I could keep two doors between them and the things I didn’t want their little hands on. (Right now, all that stands between them and my possessions are a bi-fold closet door I may or may not remember to lock; I’m bad about that.) At one point a few weeks ago I must have forgotten to lock the door, and my oldest comes to me with something in her hand, asking .”Mommy, who’s tooth is this?”.

Ohshitomghowdidshefindherbabytoothomgwhatdoitellher??????????????????????????

That precarious balance of magic and growing up threatened to topple before my eyes, and I had no idea what to do. She is 10, and at that point most kids have left behind the notion of fairies and Santa like others leave behind outgrown rain boots. On the other hand, I have been given the gift of a child who sees the magic in life so many others are quick to cast off. She still thinks Pokemon really are out there, and if she wishes hard enough, she might get one, a REAL one, all her own one day. She believes in Santa, and the tooth fairy, and that if you make a birthday wish, it has to come true. (Birthday wishes ARE special you know.) On the other hand, she is 10. Being a June baby, she is younger than most of her friends, some of whom are far too old for their age thanks to older siblings and parents who have no issue with things like movie ratings and parental advisories. She has been told by these friends that magic does not exist, but still she believes.

Until that moment, when she confronted me with the evidence that could end it all. I had to make a decision- tell the truth and let it go, or lie, and let her keep those childhood illusions for just a bit longer.

With an absolute straight face, I looked her in the eye and quite simply told her the tooth she found had been one of my baby teeth. The doubt and worry in her face turned to awe as she thought she held a bit of mommy-history in her hand, and then relief as she realized those nagging doubts in her mind had been unfounded.

Right or wrong, the magic lives on.

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I have said before I am not cut out to raise boys, and I meant it. I keep hoping they’ll have mercy on me and quit throwing me these penis-related curve balls, but no such luck.

Only in my world do I have to explain my dear, sweet 4 1/2 year old son why it is NOT ok to try to get the dog to give your pee-pee kisses. Being before 7:30am the best I could come up with as I stood there hyperventilating was that we don’t let anyone else touch our pee-pees, and that includes the dogs.

It’s officially a race to see who needs therapy first, me or the kids.

I have no idea where he picked up this lovely phrase, but every so often my 2 year old will run up to me out of the blue and say “Mommy, I see in your nose, and you got burgers!!” Burgers somehow sounds more pleasant than boogers, so I haven’t bothered to correct him. Not to mention I’m incredibly immature well-humored and it makes me giggle like mad when he says it. Giggling causes him to repeat it a few times, sending me into further fits of laughter, and he starts laughing too. Good times I tell ya.

Last night one of the older two decided they needed to correct him on it, and before you know it, Damian is running around telling us all we have boogers. I wasn’t nearly as amused by this, but he was incredibly excited about his new-found phrase. So excited he turns to our back door, opens it, stands in the doorway, and yells as loud as his little lungs will allow “I see in your nose, and you got BOOGERS!!!!”. Before I could stop him, he did it again, no less quietly. If the whole neighborhood didn’t know about Damian and his boogers, they do now.

We be klassy like that.