If you ask anyone, I'm the first person to believe in Magic. (At least. I'm the first person to get excited about something magical, even if it's a bit misleading).
The idea of magic thrills me.
And, apparently, it thrills my 5 year old because tonight he attempted his very first magical act.
To his utter shock and disappointment.
And who had to deal with the fall out? The 'this is real life and that is make believe' discussion?
I lied so bad, Pinocchio ain't got nothin' on me!
...But before I go on, let me tell you the tale of the time when my son's hopes and dreams came crashing down around him...
Since our move, my son has found a new movie obsession. (Now that I think about it, it's the same movie obsession that my brothers had at that age. Hmmm, does anyone else smell a Hollywood conspiracy?)
Tyler has been watching 'The Indian in the Cupboard' religiously for about two months now. I'm not sure if it's the magic, if it's the fact that it all happens to a little boy, or both; but he loves this movie.
Now normally, this is where a mother's tale would end.
Her kid loves a movie, watches it all the time, yada yada yada.
Got it lady. We've all been there.
But, unfortunately for me, this is just where it starts.
Because many moons ago, when I was just a young child of...I can't even remember, my dear grandmother made me, my brothers, and my cousins little wooden boxes.
The boxes belonging to me and her only other female granddaughter were, what else, Barbie. My brothers' and all my male cousins got boxes decorated after (you guessed it) The Indian in the Cupboard.
Not only were they decorated; she had also bought them the movie complete with the Indian action figure and the key to use with their boxes.
(And all my cousin and I got were McDonald's barbies. Favoritism much?)
...Flash forward however many years...
One of my brothers still has their box (or rather, they think they do but really my son has claimed it as his own).
Tyler has been playing with this box for a while now. Every time he watches the movie, the box is by his side.
Well, recently, we found the Indian.
Yay for us! Right?
So he now has the box and the Indian, he plays in compete and utter happiness, and watches his movie...end of story?
I'm not that lucky.
(Because I am the cleaning type of person that I am) somehow today he came across the long lost key for the box.
Insert my 'Oh, crap' here.
And (as I'm sure you've already guessed) in goes the Indian.
Twist goes the key.
He's still plastic.
Enter crestfallen, heartbroken, and devastated little boy whom I now very carefully have to put back together.
So as he looked up at me with his big, brown, puppy dog eyes I told him exactly what he needed to hear to help him understand this momentous disappointment in his life....
"It's not the right cupboard."