THE SONIC BOOMER
Let me begin by saying that I am 15 years older than my youngest brother. A 15-year difference is a big difference. When I was in college, Dave was five. I would take him with me on the days he didn’t have school. While I was studying early childhood education, he was living it. I remember us sitting in a lecture hall with the professor saying, “Now let’s say you are asking the children, ‘What’s four plus four?’…”
“Eight!” Dave shouted, and a hundred serious students laughed out loud.
Let me continue by saying that my parents believed in preserving our childhoods as long as possible. Whether it was because they had grown up during the vestiges of the Great Depression or they just liked watching us enjoy our youth, I don’t know. I do know they didn’t teach us much about time or money. Because once you learn to value time and money, your youth is over. Cool calculation sets in.
At any rate, because Dave was so much younger, reality had been postponed indefinitely for the rest of us. We all believed in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. Life was magical. Anything could happen.
That’s not to say that we were spoiled. We got a fair amount of presents at Christmas, an average-sized basket of candy at Easter and ten cents under our pillow every time we lost a tooth. And, because I got married and left home while Dave was still fairly young, it never came up that these benevolent bastions of childhood may not actually exist. Therefore, I believe to this day.
When I raised my own children, these traditions were kept alive, although I will admit that the number of presents was greater, the Easter baskets were larger and the Tooth Fairy had become more generous, doling out a dollar a tooth. Inflation!
Continuing on, my daughter took things a step further — holidays now included letters from Santa and the Easter Bunny, congratulating my grandkids for their good behavior or an especially hard-won “A” in school. The Tooth Fairy tucked a tiny envelope under the pillow, filled with “pixie dust,” a $5 bill and kind words in teeny tiny printing. It was a joy to have my grandchildren rush me at the door, babbling over each other in their excitement to tell me what they’d received.
But, recently, things have changed.
The grandchildren have allowed Dirty Little Facts to cloud their judgment on what’s real and what isn’t. With two mechanical engineers as parents, they question the logistics of being able to fill a single sleigh with toys for every child the world over. They doubt the probability of said sleigh’s lift-off ability, as well as the travel time required to distribute these goods in just one night.
Thanks to their science classes, I’ve heard the argument that “bunnies are mammals — they don’t lay eggs.” Well, humans are mammals, too, and we still have plenty of eggs in our refrigerators.
This total lack of belief was no more evident than last week when my 12-year-old grandson walked up to his mother, plopped a baby tooth into her hand and said, “Five dollars, please.”
Oh, the humanity!
