This morning while I was in the shower for three minutes JD found his Batmobile and Batman in my closet. I ordered it from Target.com and it came in a giant box, so for space, I ditched the box and tossed the toy on top of two big bags of his other gifts. This was me being lazy and underestimating my preschooler.
When I got out of the shower I peeked my head around the corner to check on JD. Like every other morning, I expected to see him on the floor with his cars/watching cartoons. He was not in the living room, in the kitchen (I’ve caught him in the pantry closet snooping for lollies) or his bedroom. Since I moved his art table into my room to make room for our Christmas tree, I figured he was in my room coloring. Instead he was in my closet. The two bags and the Batman toy are situated behind my closet door. JD was holding the Batman toy. “Craaa,” [Crap] started to spill from my mouth.
“Bud,” I said, standing in the closet in a towel.
“MOM! Batman is in here!” he said with such pure joy and excitement.
I had one of those moments where I didn’t know what to do or say so I just hurried JD out of the closet and felt flustered and crazy. This is because last night we watched the (creepy) 1970’s stop motion movie, Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town on ABC. JD loved it. He told me he wants to wait up on Christmas Eve so he can see the reindeer. It was such a sweet, innocent moment and I felt all warm and happy knowing that JD totally believes in Santa. I know there will be a time when he doesn’t—when he'll tell me cash is an ideal substitute for a present. As a mom Christmas is a big deal for me. I bite at the cookies we make on Christmas Eve and drip milk on the table. JD and I make reindeer food (dry oatmeal, carrot shreds and tons of glitter). We leave it on the balcony and I make a mess of that too. Santa leaves JD a note…the bottom line: JD is not supposed to be finding presents in my closet!!! I was more sad than mad. And I'm also being dramatic, I know. Prior to writing this blog I shared this story with my parents, brothers, a friend via text and 12 co-workers.
“Mom, can I have that?” JD asked, trying to wiggle back into my closet, but I pulled a defensive move—in my towel—and stopped him.
“But, I want my Batman toy, Mom,” he said. I closed the closet door and took a deep breath.
“Bud, that’s a special prize for Christmas and you can’t play with it now,” I said.
And JD started crying and threw himself on the floor. (I was still in my towel by the way.)
I felt horrible, but I just didn’t want to give it to him. “But whhhhhhhhhy,” he cried. I calmed him down with a cup of milk and plopped him on my bed. I turned on Sesame Street to distract him. And it totally worked.
I quickly got ready, grabbed JD’s lunch and zipped his coat up. Yes, he forgot already, I thought.
“Come on bud, time for school,” I said.
“OK Mommy,” he said walking in front of me and out the front door. “I’m playing with that Batman toy when I get home.”
I didn’t respond.
On my way to a freelance magazine job I devised a plan. If JD remembers about the toy (and he will) I’m going to say the following: OK, Santa dropped that off early because he needed to get it from the...Batcave. He asked me to hold it for him until he comes on Christmas Eve.
Doesn’t this sound brilliant?
Tune in Monday to see if JD spent the weekend playing with his new Batman toy.
Have your kids ever found their holiday presents? What did you do? Did you give in?