Several years ago, our family (along with my lil sis) ventured down to Southern California to visit my relatives. Since they live about an hour away from Anaheim, we decided to stop by Disneyland. When I say “stop by”, that was about as much as we could do with a clingy toddler and a waddling pregnant woman (moi!) in tow. E had also brought along his beloved Winnie the Pooh plush toy that he loved with all the heartfelt affection of a two year old (translation: it never left his side).
We hit up a couple of the calm rides (ie. It’s a Small World) and then got in line for the Pirates of the Caribbean. Hubby had reservations about how our highly sensitive munchkin would react to the one-eyed buccaneers, but I was determined (aka. stubborn) to go on my favorite ride, which I hadn’t been on since high school. When we finally made it to the front of the line, we hopped aboard our little boat and set off for the great unknown.
Great unknown was right.
Thirty seconds into the ride, I started regretting my stubbornness. Poor E was huddled next to hubby, his little body cringing at all the strange sights and scary sounds around him. Those fun plunges down the waterfalls that I’d been looking forward to didn’t seem so fun anymore, especially when 7 months pregnant (hm, maybe that’s why C is so feisty?)! We were all more than relieved when the ride ended, and we quickly got off, with not even a backward glance.
It wasn’t until we were a good thirty feet away did E realize we’d forgotten something back in the Caribbean. Yup, we’d left Pooh with the pirates!
Poor E was distraught, his big brown eyes filling up with tears. Hubby ran back to the ride as we waddled after him, but before we made it, he met us with a sad, weary look on his face. We spent the rest of the evening at the Lost and Found, hoping someone would find E’s toy and turn it in. Suffice it to say, Disneyland was not the happiest place on earth for us that day.
After E went to sleep that night, hubby and I racked our brains for some way to console our dear son. If we could have, we’d have rushed out to buy him another Pooh Bear (maybe 2!). But as life would have it, his Pooh Bear had been a gift from a friend who lives in Europe and didn’t exist on our continent. So, I did what any desperate parent would do, I turned to eBay.
Thank you, eBay!
Amazingly, we found the ONLY listing with the EXACT SAME Pooh Bear being sold by someone in the UK. The catch? They would only ship to UK buyers. So, I did what any stubborn parent would do at one o’clock in the morning, I sent the seller a message of our epic, tragic tale. I even offered to pay extra for them to ship it to the US. They replied with a gracious message agreeing to the transaction and voila—we were the proud owners of E’s Pooh Bear (again).
A week later when we were back at home, a package arrived in the mail from the UK. I promptly brought it to E and opened it with him. When he took Pooh Bear out of the brown paper bag, he eyed it carefully, then eyed me, waiting for a reasonable explanation as to how we managed to find his toy.
“Mickey Mouse found him and mailed him to us!” I declared with what I hoped was enough conviction and enthusiasm.
E seemed to buy my story, but to be honest, he didn’t treat that Pooh Bear the same way he treated the first one. 🙁
Just last week I was cleaning out C’s room and stumbled upon Pooh Bear (the second) whom she had inherited from E and couldn’t bear (pun intended, heehee) to give it away. I turned to E and asked him, “Remember this? You used to love him.”
In his no-nonsense way, he replied, “Didn’t you say someone found it, but you bought it?”
Yes, dear son, that is the simple explanation of the story. But it leaves out all the emotions we as your parents experienced that night. Guilt for dragging you on a ride you weren’t ready for. Angst at the sight of your sweet, sad face when you realized your prized possession was gone. Determination to make things right again in your world. And finally, joy when we found the elusive pirate’s booty (obtained in our case by legal means) and presented it to you.
Even if neither you nor C treasure Pooh Bear anymore, I think I’ll hold onto it. It helps remind me of all the crazy, roll-your-eyes things that parents do for their kids. Why? Because we love them.
Hm. Maybe it is a simple explanation after all. 🙂
I couldn’t find a song to go with this post, but I did find a funny, very stereotypical video by Wong Fu Productions about the things Asian parents say to show they love their kids. 😉
What are some crazy or cool things you’ve done to show your love to your kids (or your parents did for you)?
