It's a Wonderful Life

One week ago today, Alex had a snow day. It was really more of an ice day, but a few inches of snow topped it off. We did the things one does on a snow day shortly before Christmas - we glittered and glued, we cut snowflakes from paper. We baked. Around noon, the kids headed out to play while I waited for a loaf of banana bread to come out of the oven. As they dashed out to the deck, I celebrated their independence. They can both get their own snow clothes on. They can put their boots on. They can play alone without a lot of worry. At least that is what I thought

We have a walk out basement. Therefore, our deck, which is off the kitchen, is second story. As Alex and Cate set about building a snowman, I watched out the sliding glass door, gathering my own snowpants and boots as I waited to take the bread from the oven. I was about two minutes from heading out when I watched Alex climb the railing of the deck like a ladder, stand on the top and jump, yes jump, from the side. A moment later, Cate was pounding on the door screaming, "Alex is crying." In my mind, this scene plays in slow motion, although I know it happened in a split second. Why didn't I stop him? Why didn't I run? Why did Cate have to scream for me? Only a second had passed.

I sprinted out the door and down the sixteen or so icy, snow covered stairs to a small, crumpled boy screaming that his legs hurt as blood poured from his mouth and nose. With the super strength and calm that comes only in these moments, I carried him to the house. The story could go on, but the ending is that he is fine. Nothing was broken. The bleeding stopped. The swelling went down. He's the same crazy, loving, boy he was, hopefully a bit wiser.

The moment was one of terror, but it was the hours and days after that were worse. He jumped about 15 feet. The possible "what if" scenarios are too horrid to follow. "He has an angel on his shoulder," a friend said. With all of my being, I hope that it is true. And I hope that angel stays firmly in place, whatever craziness lies ahead.

I don't think he will try that particular trick again. When asked why he did it (and he has been asked many, many times by many, many people,) he will not answer. He is self conscious and obviously more than a little embarrassed. I just think it is something he always wanted to try. I think he really thought that maybe, just maybe, he could fly (a thought confirmed when he asked me if I thought it would have worked had he been wearing a parachute). I think he thought the snow would be soft. I think he thought a lot of things we all would like to think.

Which brings me to this year's visit with Santa. Anyone who lives here knows that Santa frequents Cooperstown. Anyone who doesn't believe in Santa should visit Cooperstown and stop by his cottage. Your doubts will quickly be cast aside.

We visited Santa last Friday night. As luck would have it, Mrs. Claus was with him that night too. The kids were crazy at the thought of seeing him. We waited in the cold as they tingled with anticipation. We entered his cottage, and a silence fell over them - a silence reserved for the presence of greatness. Santa and Mrs. Claus took a few minutes to catch up with them. Of course, the Clauses know their names, their ages, even their years at school and how many Christmases we have celebrated together as a family. They know it all without any cues, as only the Clauses would. They each presented Santa and Mrs. Claus with a drawing they had made. The Clauses "oohed" and "ahhed" and studied each picture carefully. Cate tentatively approached and told Santa she wanted a flashlight. Santa described his workshop and the flashlights the elves are making. Alex approached. They talked about school. Alex wants a metal detector. They chit chatted about beaches and treasures as Alex sat on his lap, until Cate, from my lap said, "Alex jumped from the deck. He got hurt. He was bloody and his legs hurt."

The Clauses fell silent. We reminded them our deck is about 15 feet in the air. Alex looked like someone who would like to disappear. Santa and Mrs. Claus were dismayed. "Alex, Alex, you must cross your heart, hope to die, stick a needle in your eye that you will never, never, never do that again," Mrs. Claus said solemnly. With wide eyes, Alex nodded his head and made the sacred promise. The visit moved on to Rudolph and presents and what Alex likes about being a big brother and all the other things that Santa likes to know.

But I was hardly listening. I was silently thanking the tattle-tale little sister and the motherly Mrs. Claus for making Alex take his solemn vow. I am merely his mother. I know the things I throw caution to, he will throw to the wind. But Mrs. Claus and Santa... what they say has weight.

As for me, and my Christmas wish, this all served as a reminder that I already have everything I could ever need. As much as I would like to, I know I can't ask that it always stay just this way. But if I could ask for one thing more, it would be this - I hope that angel earns his wings. Living on Alex' shoulder, I'm afraid he is going to need them.

And as his mother, I need to believe that he is there.