Shopping With Connor 

Shopping With Connor

I took Connor to the mall with me earlier in the week, to shop for Chris's birthday gifts. My first mistake was telling him in advance that we were going to shop for gifts, because it gave him ample time to become very determined in his own idea of what Chris would like for his birthday. We had no sooner set foot in the mall before Connor listed his plans: "I'm getting Daddy three things. I'm getting him a beach ball, a Toronto Bluejays shirt, and one of those things you hang over your bed that has the planets on it." I didn't even know where to begin my line of questioning to find out why he had picked these three items, so I started with the beach ball. He explained, "Well, Daddy always wants to play ball in the house, and it's not really safe, so I'll get him a beach ball, so he can play more safely." Fair enough. But why a Toronto Bluejays shirt? "Mom, don't you know? The Toronto Bluejays are Daddy's favorite team now. He loves them better than the Mets. He ROOTS for the the Bluejays." Now, I openly admit that I am not exactly thrown into raptures of interest when Chris talks sports, but I felt SURE that if he had suddenly dropped the Mets in favor of another team, I would know about it. I then quickly reasoned that if he did, he would certainly not pick a non-American team, and TORONTO? They're practically FRENCH, and you KNOW how he feels about the French. So I felt quite self-assured in my conviction as I told Connor, "Daddy is not a Bluejays fan. I don't know where you got that idea. Daddy likes the Mets." This sent Connor into a veritable TIZZY of hysteria as he tearfully explained that he absolutely could not leave the mall without a Toronto Bluejays shirt, because he KNEW that they were Daddy's favorite team. He added emphatically, "He doesn't just love them. He ROOTS for them." I acquiesced simply because he was acting completely insane about it, and given that I had no explanation for why he believed this, I couldn't really offer any evidence to the contrary. Finally, "Why do you want to buy Daddy a planet mobile?" "Because he loves the planets. It's like, all he ever talks about. Every time it gets dark, he wants to take me outside and talk about the planets, and he's always trying to read me that planet book. I don't even want to read it anymore, but he likes it alot, so I let him read it to me." I tried to explain that Daddy was just trying to do a homeschool unit with Connor on astronomy, but Connor was convinced that this went way beyond devotion to academics. So we set off in search of a beach ball, a bluejays shirt, and a planet mobile. First, we struck out on the beach ball. Most retailers had received the memo that summer was over. Connor took this very well. So off we went to the toy store to find a planet mobile, and found something EVEN BETTER. It was an interactive light-up planetarium with a computer chip that could teach about the constellations. Connor exclaimed in a feverish tone, "He can take this into his garage room and make it all dark and shine the stars on the ceiling! He's gonna LOVE this! He'll learn SO MUCH!" So we purchased the new toy for Daddy and headed to Champs sporting goods in search of a bluejays shirt. Alas, the average in-the-mall chain store does not carry bluejays sports gear. Apparently there's just not enough demand, given that the only Bluejay fan in the tri-state area is not even an ACTUAL fan; he's just a fan in his son's demented imagination. The only Toronto Bluejays item we could find was at a cart in the middle of the mall; it was a baseball cap with a Toronto Bluejay that LIT UP. This, Connor felt, was the epitome of the perfect gift. I was stricken with terror; how was I going to talk him out of this? Thankfully, it was not a sized cap; it was adjustable, and Connor accepted the explanation that Daddy unfortunately only wears sized caps. I told Connor that I thought that the only store that would carry Bluejays stuff was a sports specialty store in our area, but that it was too late to go that night. So I suggested making Daddy a gift certificate, letting him know that we were ordering one online. Connor said, "Okay, we can do that. But if you're not going to do that, then you're going to have to get on a bus and go find a shirt, even if you have to ride the bus all night. I have to give him a bluejays shirt." Okay, so gift certificate it was.
On the way home, Connor talked excitedly about his purchase and about the gift certificate. He warned me umpteen times not to tell Chris about his surprises. I hate to commit this to the written word, and hope that Connor will not hold a grudge when he reads this someday as an adult, but the very second he was in bed, I darted upstairs to warn Chris about his gifts so that he could practice his gratitude. He was baffled on the beach ball, and highly amused that his astronomy unit was being misconstrued as a rather tiring hobby. He vowed to be exceptionally excited over the planetarium, though. As soon as I mentioned the Bluejays and Connor's belief that they were his favorite team, Chris doubled over in laughter. He explained that several weeks ago, when he had taken Connor to a Yankee game, the Yankees were playing the Bluejays, so Chris kept telling Connor that they were rooting for the bluejays because they hate the Yankees. Connor had a great time with Chris at Yankee stadium, angering Yankee fans by yelling, "Go Bluejays! Woo-HOOOO!" This had made quite an impression on Connor, and I guess he filed it away in his memory. Chris was so touched by this thoughtful sentiment that he's actually very enthusiastically awaiting the arrival of his Bluejays shirt.
The following day, after we sang Happy Birthday, Chris delivered an Oscar-commanding performance. Right before he blew out his candles, he said, "What is my birthday wish?...Hm... I wish that someday I will get some sort of fun planet toy... Wait, no...I really want that, but what I REALLY want is, hm... some kind of... Bluejays stuff, because I LOVE the Bluejays." I seriously thought Connor was going to fall out of his chair. He almost cried. Then he barrelled out of his seat and practically socked Chris in the chest with the envelope containing the gift certificate and the box with the planetarium in it. Chris was enthusiastic and overwhelmed with Connor's generosity. Connor was smugly pointed in telling me, "I TOLD you that this is what he wanted." And when Chris opened the presents from me, a Mets jersey and some cd's that he had wanted for a while, Connor gave me a condescending look that clearly said, "Nice try, but I think we know who the better gift giver is in THIS house."