A couple years ago, my daughter fell in love at Target. It was during the holiday shopping season and the store had given prime real estate at the end of one of their toy aisles to Butterscotch, a whinny-ing, eye-batting, head-swaying pony. Every visit we made to Target included a trip to see the over-sized horse.
She wanted Butterscotch so badly, that she had me and her dad wanting it too.
“I want Butterscotch more than anything else,” she told us. “Do you think Santa will get him for me? What if I only put Butterscotch on my list for Santa?”
My husband and I went back and forth about whether Santa should foot the bill for Butterscotch; even though it would be up to him and his elves to deliver, it was a pretty big gift to get. In the end, we all awoke Christmas morning to find that Santa had, in fact, left Butterscotch under our tree.
I’d like this story to go on and on about how much my daughter loved that horse and how often she played with him; but then, there would be no Butterscotch Lesson to learn. My daughter’s love for her mechanical toy horse turned out to be more of a puppy-love (pony-love?) incident and the affair was over long before Easter arrived.
The real story is that the horse rarely got played with and still gets in the way. At this point, it only garners attention when other children visit. My husband has suggested that we trim its eyebrows and re-gift it to our son in a few years (I guess long eyebrows are too feminine for a one-time-marine and his son). But someone would be getting the short end of the horse on that deal, right? I mean, how much fun would it be for our little boy to get something that has stood (unused) in the corner of the playroom since before he was born? We may as well try to pass one of our dining room chairs off to him as a gift from Santa.
The Butterscotch Lesson was a good one for us fairly new parents at Christmas time. We found out quickly that no matter how deeply in love a child falls for the next shiny, pretty, oversized toy of the year, it doesn’t mean the love will last.
I had forgotten about the Butterscotch Lesson until a few weeks ago when I visited my daughter’s kindergarten class to read a book and meet all of her classmates. We read a story about a family with lots of aunts and uncles and cousins, so the classroom discussion that followed included each of the children telling me what they liked best about their own families. It was a clear reminder of what our kids want most from us.
“My favorite thing about my family is my baby sister,” was the first response from a little girl with blonde hair. The boy next to her said he liked to cuddle with his brother who was only 2 years old. “I like tickles from my dad,” said another boy. Tickling actually got three votes. Another boy told me that he liked wrestling with his dad, “ ... best of all.” “My favorite is when my brother plays with me,” said another boy. “I liked when my sister was born and I got to go to the hospital and see her,” said the girl sitting right in front of me.
“I like when it’s snowing and going sledding with my family.” There were lots of activities that made the list: going to the park, racing with dad, playing outside with a brother or sister, going to the zoo and seeing the rhino, carving pumpkins, playing board games, and family birthdays.
“I like when we have family game night,” said one of the girls, but she ended on a bittersweet note, .”..we only had it one time though.” Another little girl had a similar favorite, “I like my dog,” she told me, but continued with, “ ... I miss him. We had to give him away.” One girl liked her kitty and doggie and grandma best, but couldn’t remember kitty’s name.
And while there were a few video-gamers, it wasn’t so much the game they played as the people who played with them. One boy told me that his favorite thing about his family was getting to play the Star Wars game with his cousins. Another liked it best when, “ ... my dad let’s me play video games with him.”
The theme throughout my conversation with these 5 and 6-year olds was that their favorite things had more to do with the time they spent with loved ones than the stuff their loved ones bought them. It was The Butterscotch Lesson in full force ... and perfect timing too just before the biggest shopping day of the year.
Amy Gesenhues is a freelance writer in Floyd County, Indiana. You can read her daily commentaries at www.AmyWroteIt.Wordpress.com or email her at amy@amywroteit.com.
Columns
GESENHUES: The Butterscotch Lesson
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