My youngest daughter is now seven. She’s brought so much wisdom into my life in those short years that I am so grateful to be her mother. She and I both have intense personalities which can make our relationship feel difficult at times. This is a story of one of those times and how we navigated through it.
Wizard of Oz: As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don’t know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.
Tin Woodsman: But I still want one.
When she was five we saw the Broadway touring production of the Wizard of Oz, to which Juliet wore her ruby red slippers. I wished I had a pair because sometimes it’s hard for me to find my way back home.
The next day, Juliet stood in the middle of an aisle, sobbing, clutching a sparkly pink Barbie horse to match her fuschia sweater. Her curly blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders and framed her face, highlighting the sadness there. A few minutes before we had walked into the store on a whim; driving by the learning resource store I thought maybe we could find something new and interesting to shake up our days. I explained I didn’t have a lot of money to spend but we’d have a look around. It didn’t go so well.
Everything Juliet wanted to buy we already had at home, stuffed on shelves, crammed into the toy kitchen, spilling over the edges of baskets. More toy fruit, another magnetic dress-up ballerina, another ball, a gigantic bag of beads to add to our existing stash. Gah! I just couldn’t imagine adding more of the same stuff when we’re on a budget and when so much isn’t played with already. I was stuck in my head- really, really stuck. Because you know what? That happens sometimes.
With some work, she accepted all of my reasons for not wanting to buy any of the toys she pointed out. Relenting she said, “okay, then I know what I want. Follow me.” She led me to a display of plastic animals, specifically a $30 wooden stable with twelve plastic horses. Phew. Deep breath. We have a few horses already and she recently purchased not one, but two Barbie horses with her allowance. She was holding one at the moment, I pointed out. “Yes, but I really, really want those!!” Juliet started to cry. I tried to explain how much money it would take to buy them and that she already had horses to play with. Trying to find them online for a smaller pricetag was out of the question- for Juliet it’s all about Right. Now. I offered a tube of miniature horses for $10 and almost won her over. But, no. She was upset and couldn’t discuss or compromise. She could only sob and talk to me in halting breaths as I held her. Her heart was breaking, my heart was breaking. We had this huge gulf between us, a major disconnect and I didn’t know what to do except ask her questions and validate her feelings.
Wizard of Oz: A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others.
My little five year old girl started to tell me why this was so important to her. ”I want my big horses to have babies. I really love horses. I want to have a collection and I don’t have that many. These horses are bigger and nicer than the other ones. I don’t care about money. I care about my family and my friends and I’ll share with everyone and be nice. I really care about horses. I love you all so much. That’s all that matters. Not money.”
Suddenly, I understood.
I left my head and felt her heart.
I loved her. I remembered that she’s my second child and so much of what she plays with were her sister’s first. It’s true that our house is full of toys. But they aren’t all hers. She didn’t pick them out. She doesn’t have happy memories of opening a gift, finding them inside and feeling gratitude for the giver; being so excited that she has this new thing that is so special. While I’ve been picking up toy horses and taking both girls to horse shows for years, horses are a new favorite thing for her. All of that other activity belonged to her sister, not to her. It’s her turn now. Part of the fun of having something is knowing that it is yours in every way, especially when it’s ooper, smooper, dooper, extra-special, I-love-it-so-much-Mama, as Juliet likes to often say.
Glinda: You don’t need to be helped any longer. You’ve always had the power to go back to Kansas.
In the big scheme: the years are short that she’s a little girl who loves horses sooo much and there are many years left for money-saving.
From this place, I was able to see clearly.
I would pitch in the $10 I was willing to pay for the second-class horses and she could use her future allowance for the balance. A loan from the Bank of Mama is just what we needed to walk out of the store happy and with a beaming girl who hasn’t stopped playing with her new horses. It was really a very simple solution but because I wasn’t willing to play along I couldn’t get there. I was all blocked up with other stuff that had nothing to do with Juliet’s clear, uncomplicated desire. Sometimes I really mess up and hearts are broken. I’m glad that I waited and listened and thought and felt my way to a better moment. It’s not always easy just because it’s simple.
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