> Sunglasses > By Beverly Beckham > > We have a picture of him somewhere, a brokenhearted > five-year-old, slumped on a bench at Disney World, eyes > fighting back tears, lips so tense you can almost see them > quivering, his felt Mickey Mouse ears cocked to one side. > Or maybe we don't have a picture, except in our minds. > And yet it's the same image my husband and I share: A sunny > day, white light glinting off the windows on Main Street, > reflecting off dozens of chrome carriages with chrome > wheels, light and heat shimmering everywhere and our two > children, clamoring for sunglasses, "Please, Mommy? > Please, Daddy? Pleeeze!" > We ducked into a shop and Rob picked out Donald Duck > glasses, blue and white plastic things that slid down his > nose and made him look far more like Scrooge McDuck than > Donald Duck. But we didn't tell him this. He loved those > glasses. Lauren, three and already into fashion, chose > pink Minnie Mouse glasses because she was dressed in pink > that day. > They wore them out of the dark store into the day, up > Main Street, through the castle and into Fantasyland. > During "Peter Pan's flight" they took them off and clutched > them in their hands, and they did the same in "Pirates of > the Caribbean." On "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride" they had them > on, I know, because we have a picture of them smiling and > waving. > Somehow, somewhere, after that, maybe when he was > getting off that ride, maybe when he stopped to tie his > sneaker or fix his Mickey ears, or maybe when we were > having lunch, the Donald Duck glasses disappeared. And > Robbie, who was five and loved those glasses, cried. > "If you had loved them you would have taken better > care of them," is what we said to him. Or something like > that. But we were young and new at this parenting thing, > and weren't we supposed to teach him to take care of what > was his? Wasn't it our duty to make sure that he knew that > money didn't grow on trees? > What did those sunglasses cost? A dollar? Two > dollars? What harm would it have done to wipe his tears > and say, "Come on, we'll get you another pair. I know you > didn't mean to lose them." Would he have grown up to be a > bad person? Would he have been corrupted in some > unforeseeable way? > Lauren said, "You can have mine, Robbie." But he > didn't want hers. They were pink and for girls. And his > were blue and for boys. And they were gone, and he had > loved them and he was miserable. > If I had it to do over, I'd have marched back down > Main Street and bought a brand-new pair of Donald Duck > glasses and pretended that I found them on the ground. I > would have yelled, "Hey, look what I have!" And he would > have leaped up and come running and laughed and thrown his > arms around me and put on those glasses and this would be > the memory of that day. > You live and you learn. > A few months ago we were in Orlando, not exactly at > the scene of the crime, but close enough. Our son, long an > adult, was there on business and we flew down to meet him, > and in the flurry of rental cars and restaurants and going > here and there, guess what? He lost his sunglasses. > We didn't scold him, didn't even think about saying, > if you really liked them you would have taken better care > of them, because people lose things all the time. Instead > we did what most adults do for other adults. We helped him > figure out where he could have lost them and - what do you > know - he found them in a meeting room he'd been in the day > before. > He was grinning when he walked to the car, his steps > light and quick, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, nothing of > the five-year-old left in him to see. > Except I saw. > He was my first child, and the first has it the > hardest, because you're new at this and you go by the book > and you don't want to mess up and be too soft, but you mess > up anyway, because what do you know? > I know that as parents we have an obligation to teach > our children. But I also know that everything doesn't have > to be a lesson. That sometimes, lost sunglasses are just > what they are: lost sunglasses and nothing more. > > .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³