We ran to Walmart for mosquito repellant, pineapple juice, and bananas (and odd assortment I acknowledge). “Can we go to the fishing section?” he asks. “Sure,” I say, aware that this detour to the fishing aisle will extend our Walmart stay and likely result in a request for a gift, a loan, or bargaining a chore for a purchase.
As I stood patiently amongst the lures, rods, tackle boxes and reels, I listened to his enthusiastic chatter; “…and this is a Whopper Flopper. It has this thing right here that slaps the water, making a loud sound. It irritates the fish so that they will go after it. I do not have one of these.” I am always impressed with his knowledge about things (in this case gained mostly from YouTube fishing videos) and I love his passion for fishing and life in general. As he carried on about the benefits of the Whopper Flopper, my mind took me back in flashback like fashion to many other such occasions in the aisles of Walmart or the like over the years. Same scene, different aisle.
His first passion, bordering obsession, was trains. Diesel trains, Smokies (steam engines) as he called them, Box Cars, Tank Cars, Open Hoppers…. we knew all about them and regularly visited the aisles of any store that sold little wooden trains, and accessories. Then it was fire trucks, followed swiftly by police cars. At one time we had enough mini emergency vehicles to protect most of Metro Atlanta! It was an extra treat when we would happen into a store and discover the local fire company shopping for groceries. On more than one occasion these encounters ended in an opportunity to sit in the cab of the fire truck.
After the first responder phase we moved into dinosaurs. It started with an innocent introduction through the 90’s series, “The Land Before Time” and evolved through exposure to the Jurassic Park retail empire to more menacing prehistoric creatures. We spent many a story-time being corrected on our pronunciation of “Dilophosaurus” and the like. Our bounty from Walmart during that time often included a Therapod or a Sauropod.
Nerf guns had a concurrent run with Hot Wheel cars. Specifically, the “super car” version of Hot Wheels-little Lamborghinis, Porsche, DeLoreans filled our playroom (but never our driveway)!
Then the army phase arrived. Little plastic army men are easier on the pocketbook, yet rough on bare feet when stepped on (little plastic land mines)! Elaborate battle scenes filled our bay window surface. While his interest in this genre of toys gave me pause (if I am being honest, I would prefer that he not choose to serve his country through the military), I was comforted when I recalled the trains, police cars, firetrucks, nerf guns and dinosaurs that came before and I would lighten up a bit.
Being the opportunist that I am, I never let a moment of reflection pass without a plunge into parental guilt and despair. The Walmart aisles represent in part, my weakness as a parent; How many times over the years did I acquiesce in the aisle of the time? “This hot wheel car is just one-dollar mom.”, “I’ve really been wanting one of these, mom! “I don’t have an army set like this, mom.” So went the pleas.
There was a time when I rehearsed in advance of a shopping trip the following phrases: “It’s not in our plans to purchase that today.” And “We are just shopping for ____, but you are welcome to look.” As good as those phrases make me look, the ratio of my using those lines to caving-in to his requests is definitely on the side of caving in! The worry seeps in and spirals to an imagining of his future credit card debt from his not being able to delay gratification. And it surely started in the aisles of Walmart with his mother.
My perilous parent-guilt trip was interrupted by another excited exclamation from Grady; “Do you see this here; this is a fluke. A fluke mimics an injured fish. These are really good lures to have”. Back to my guilt trip I go, thinking of all of the times that I half-listen to his rambles about his interests. Being fully present to our kids is hard, probably impossible, on a daily basis. The tedium of chatter about things that do not feel as pressing as our to-do lists or grown-up awareness, can make it easy to nod and say “ah” but not really listen. And they know it, just as we know it when we are not being heard. I call these my “Cat’s in the Cradle” moments if you know the musical reference.
Being objective, I have not done the best job of being intentional around providing opportunities for delayed gratification and financial literacy… one of many things to fast track into our parenting while he is still at home I suppose. Likewise, as I have just confessed, my being truly present to him varies by the day or moment.
There are many different ways we parents mark the passage of time: potty training, the first day of kindergarten, the first “drop off” birthday party, losing those front teeth, riding a bike, and for me, the changing aisles of Walmart. These occasions and transitions represent our children’s development, our delight, and sometimes, our bittersweet loss.
All of this coming to me (and now you) in the aisles of a Wal-Mart.
Lest I end on a despairing and overly dramatic note-here’s what I am choosing to take away from my “aisle awareness” today; whether it is in the in the aisle, in the car, or at the table, I will choose, as much as possible, to be present to the chatter about this or that. I want to be open to and welcome those moments (that will of course dissipate some by nature in the adolescent years) when he wants to bend my ear. Listening, taking time to delight in his passions, being open to what he has to teach me, (even if it is about the mechanism of a fishing lure), embracing the stage we are in, knowing it is ever evolving as it should– these are gifts I can give him and myself.
One day not too long from now, I will go to Walmart alone. I will dutifully go through the aisles on my shopping list without negotiation around visiting this aisle or that “just to look.” Check back with me then, but you may just find me digging through the Hot wheel bins, looking at the newest nerf gun or admiring the colorful fishing lures. All with a smile on my face and a tear in my eye.
Until then, I will see which aisle comes next.
Spin Cycle 