It’s always a humbling experience when I catch a glimpse into the mind of my soon-to-be five-year-old. The ideas that youngsters have about how life goes are fascinating, and all too honest.

It was at Target this morning that Eli and I came upon a little action figure of Toothless, the Night-Fury Dragon from the movie, “How to Train your Dragon.” As a family we have become great fans of the film, but then more so fans of the Cartoon Network series “Riders of Berk” and presently “Defenders of Berk.” 

To be honest, I’ve had my eye on this little guy for several months because of our fandom, but also because he’s just so darn cute! Right? Take a look…

Mini-Toothless

He reminds me of a cat. 

I decided that today the little dragon would come home with us. What else can I say about this? Cute. Cool. That’s all. It cost $5 and I had $5 cash in my bag. Done. 

But I made sure Eli understood that it was for the family. Meaning all four of us.

“So, its not for me?” Eli asked, holding it in his hands.

Not just Eli’s toy.

“No dear,” I responded. “It’s for all of us.”

And his face crumbled a little and he said (again), “So, really? It’s not for me?”

“Uh, no dear.” And I was being patient thus far. “It’s for all of us….Me, Daddy, you and Logan. We can all play with it. And when we are done playing with it, then we will have a special place for it until the next time.”

Then this….

“Yes, but grown-ups don’t play,” he said, speaking the words as naturally and as calmly as he would probably hug his teddy bear. 

That’s the thing about when children speak. Even if what they say could possibly invoke painful feelings of quilt, disbelief, self-doubt and inadequacy in the adult who is listening, in this case mom. I don’t think that’s the intention, however, they’re only being honest, conveying how they see it in their world.

But, oh my goodness, if that truly didn’t make my heart sink so low. Don’t I play with you, son? Certainly you know I do! Because I do! All sorts of questions entered my thought process about how he would think grown-ups don’t play. 

I’ll admit, I am not good at playing make-believe with my guys. It’s like they sync their brains before the playing starts and then they call me over when they’re ready, as some sneaky ploy, knowing that I don’t stand a chance against them and the kind of imaginary scenes they’ve come up with. My character never wins. Never. (And, also, I really don’t believe they plot against me. Do they?? Certainly not my sweet angel sons??).

Give me a board game with them and I’m golden. Lay out a puzzle? I’m their gal. Craft? You betcha! But keeping up with made-up characters avoiding imaginary aliens and bad guys? I’m done for. I used to be good at it, but then they got older. And more critical. Suddenly my character’s desire to stop for a latte or to smell the flowers wasn’t that funny anymore.

I’m reminded for a brief moment of Ally Sheedy’s character in The Breakfast Club when she speaks woefully about how when you grow up, your soul dies. Yikes!

I don’t think its gone that far, but I truly desire for my boys to think I’m fun to be around! And Chris, too!

As the words spoken by my boy a moment earlier finally started to settle in and the shock of it began to wear off, we continued our conversation about who the dragon is for. He continued to argue with me relentlessly about it being his and maybe my soul did start to die just a little because I pulled out the low blow and told him that if he kept arguing and acting so unfairly, that Logan and Daddy and I would be the only ones to play with it. Not him.

And what I told him wasn’t terribly bad, either. My low blows aren’t even that low, you realize. And, do you know what he said then? I’ll tell you right now.

“Well, Moms aren’t even the ones who make the rules. Dads do.”

The End.