Weeks ago, I promised Toni I would take her Christmas shopping so that she could buy gifts for her parents without her parents being around. This is the first year she’s been really aware that they just might like to be surprised, and she’s smart enough to know that if she lacks enough money, Grandpa will make up the shortfall. That latter part is probably why she was very specific in asking me to take her and not Char. Char is a mom; moms make you consider the actual dollar amount in your wallet before letting you pick something out.
This was before I broke my foot; we took the kids skiing a couple of weeks ago and due to a poor choice in foot attire while trying out a snow bike, I managed to break a couple of bones in my foot. Minor breaks, but it still hurts a bit. I could have backed out, but I’m not an invalid and this wasn’t going to kill me, so Alex and I sucked it up and took her to the mall.
We hadn’t been inside for more than five minutes when I had a sudden and acute flashback to taking a three year old Alex Christmas shopping at the same mall. We’d barely gotten inside when he spied a very large red kettle and noted people putting money into it, and wanted to know why. He accepted that people sometimes need a little extra help buying food and clothing, and was fine with that, but just past the kettle was a collection point for Toys for Tots, manned by Marines in dress uniform. He was curious; why did those soldiers have all those toys?
The explanation that some people didn’t have enough money to buy presents for their kids made him sink to his knees, and he cried from deep down, so broken over what had occurred to him that it took several minutes before I was able to understand what had upset him. He got it: there were kids out there who didn’t have toys to play with, and if those soldiers were collecting toys, that meant that there were kids who were going to have a very bad Christmas, and worse—there was no Santa Claus.
He was three years old and even then too smart for his own good. Toni doesn’t share his rapid-fire ability to put mental puzzle pieces together, but I knew that kettle was going to be there, and just beyond that it, there was going to be a collection table for toys and Toni was going to want an explanation.
The red kettle was not a mystery to her; she’s seen then in front of grocery stores and is familiar with bell ringers. All she wanted was a dollar to put in it, and then grabbed Alex by the hand to pull him along. I hoped she would be oblivious to the men in uniform I could see just a hundred feet or so ahead, but it was like she zoned in on them, and wanted to know the same thing Alex had. What are they doing?
Before I could answer, Alex did. People bring toys to them, and they make sure those toys get to little kids who don’t get a lot for Christmas.
Oh, so those are some of Santa’s helpers?
If I had thought of that 13 years ago, one little boy might not have had the joy of believing in Santa ripped away from him. She was content with the belief that Santa makes good use of helpers, and just wanted to get down to shopping. Alex asked her if she wanted to go buy a couple of toys—his treat—and give them to the Marines, and she lit up. Of course she did.
Toni doesn’t have many more years of believing in Santa; she’s almost 9 years old and I suspect she has her doubts, but I didn’t have it in me to be there when she voiced a certainty to those doubts. I was grateful to my son for being quick enough to give her a better explanation than I'd had for him when he was three. He was able to turn it into something good; from then on, we’ve taken an annual shopping trip together—the last couple of years including Kevin—and have bought toys for donation. It was his idea and he saves a little money all year long for it. But I would still like to turn back the clock and give him the explanation he gave to Toni, and keep his belief intact for a few more years.
In another hour or so this house will begin to fill with family; Erin and Miko are bringing their kids, Craig is bringing Frankie, Brad is bringing some 18 year old scotch (this year, Craig is fine with it around), Nika and Peter, Dack and Theresa, TK and Becky and their kids—everyone in our daily lives that matters will be here; it will be loud and obnoxious, and a definite kind of wonderful.
And later on, Erin and Miko will take the kids home so that Santa can find them, because for now Toni still believes, and she can’t wait.
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