Nearly a decade ago the father had purchased a Christmas train. He thought surely the Boy would love all things transportation….he did not…and to this day he still has no interest in planes, trains or automobiles. So it was that the sad Christmas train stayed in it’s box gathering dust year after year.
The mother logically had reminded the father that toddlers and trains are a terrible combination even under the best of circumstances, and this particular family had navigated 7 years of toddlerdome. While the father was disappointed the train had remainder in storage, the mother had assured the father it was truly in the trains best interest to remain safe until the children were older.
The family had faced a challenging emotional start to the school year, as they found themselves on a difficult medical journey for their son. After taking him to multiple specialists, they now found themselves somewhere in the “we know it’s NOT this, this or this, but we just aren’t sure what it actually is” stage of diagnosis. That stage was frustrating for the parents.
The mother feeling the burden and weight of all that was involved had decided to take a pause in their pursuit during the holiday season, and to temporarily focus their full energy on the collective family dynamic rather than the needs of a single child.
The thing the mother could not handle after how hard she had fought to maintain joy during this difficult life season….would be for Christmas to lose a sense of “normal” this year. With four children under the age of 9…..normal should mean that for a few weeks….reality got to be suspended. That was just the gift of the holiday season in the mother’s opinion, and she needed it as much as the children this year.
The mother was also ready a little worried as she could sense things had been getting a little shaky in the magic department a few weeks prior following a conversation with her 7 year old Blonde. With all the emotions already in play in her mother’s heart….she was not sure she could weather a magic-busting upset.
The uh-oh/ah-ha moment had arisen after an unexpected conversation with the family’s chief-skeptic….the Blonde had taken place one morning. Seemingly so innocent, the little girl had spotted some cash in a kitchen drawer. Just cash. Quick as nothing, she tipped her head to the left, and asked “Wait! Is the tooth fairy not real?”
What?!?!
The mother of course saved the moment splendidly, as the modern world offered few exposures in the little girls life with cash other than her own tooth losing experience. The mother was quickly seeing that magic was hanging on by a fragile tread this fall. Logically she worried what this Tooth Fairy line of questioning might mean for Christmas and Santa for all magic is interwoven.
Compounding the mothers concern, was the discovery that the Blonde recently told her classmates that wicked children might find their elf on the shelf murdered should they not listen to their parents. Oh sweet Lord… yes you read that correctly.
Obviously, I appreciate a top notch level of imagination as anyone, but we had to talk about how stories containing Tim Burton levels of creepy…..might scare typical small children, and might be best saved for at home. Magic was fraying.
Its of note that the mother was raised in a home that focused only on the religious components of the holiday. While the mother still incorporates those elements with her own children, the component the mother had always felt missing and essential to ever-fading childhood wonderment in her own childhood…. was Santa and the suspension of belief he embodied.
The mother wisely knew that if they lost the Blonde….the rest of the children would follow as she was the worst secret keeper, and without question would share her “knowledge” with the others, and prematurely steal the mystery for her sisters the Brunette (age 5) and Baby (age 4).
The mother was beyond committed to challenging her energy into their December medical appointment reprieve, and refused for this to be the year magic died. You heard that right….MAGIC could not die this year.
So the mother downgraded the Santa story to contain more elements of realism for her now older detail-centric child. She layered in a plan for North Pole levels of consistency involving delivery and wrapping paper an effort to sustain maintainability.
The mother realizes this is the point in the story where many of you may be raising one eyebrow and muttering “Is this all really necessary? They all have to realize the truth at some point.” I assure you it is for details definitely matter when you are raising a skeptical child.
Then the mother moved into the decorating mode that very week, and after the tree had come to rest in the corner of the living room, the mother had an epiphany. She knew what they needed this year.
She turned to the father, clapped three times in the air, and proclaimed “Oooh let’s add the train under the tree this year!” The father’s eye grew wide with delight. His time had come!! He was beside himself with holiday joy, and got to work straight away. Without question 2017 would be a holiday of laughter, togetherness, and preserved magic, all thanks to the magic of a Christmas train.
Motherhood lived in technicolor reminds us that fighting for magic in our children’s lives is as much a gift to them as it is a blessing to us. Never stop believing.
Summer Smith is a speaker, writer, and motherhood blogger. She and her family are currently navigating the suburbs of Northern Virginia. As the mother to four young children, Summer maintains her sanity thanks to her sense of humor, copious amounts of coffee, and Amazon Prime. Maya Angelou once said, when reflecting on her childhood, that her mother left an impression like technicolor stars in the midnight sky. Influenced by these words, Summer blogs at her website Motherhood in Technicolor, and can also be found on her Motherhood in Technicolor Facebook page.