As Jake’s toys piled up, his mother steered neighbors and family to share their skills instead.
It started with a simple question: “What would Jake like for Christmas?” My son, Jake, is 14 years old. His father died when he was 4. I was a widow with a child for seven years, and I recently remarried. I cannot be mathematically precise, but it feels as though the material bounty that is piled in Jake’s room has been growing because of his loss. He has politically correct toys – soft stuffed animals, sweet wooden cars from childhood, shelves piled with puzzles and board games, and now boxes of tangled wires for various electronic entertainments.
“Don’t throw anything away, Mom,” he insists. “It reminds me of my childhood.”
In fact, in the months after my husband died, condolence notes often came with “Here’s a little something for Jake” – so much so that he looked up at me one day and said, “I hate all this stuff. I just want Daddy back.”
I can’t get Daddy back, but when a neighbor in Apt. 2-A innocently said, “What would Jake like for Christmas?” I blurted out, “Please don’t get him anything more.” But not wanting to be ungracious, I quickly added, “You’re a great cook. Why don’t you give him a coupon for a cooking lesson?”
Yesterday he came back aglow after three hours with her. “We made sautéed vegetables, homemade tortellini, and she put on different music when we made each course. Maybe I’ll be a chef.”
And so it began. The family in 9-C, who have a Burmese Mountain dog my son adores, has given him two coupons – one to help give the dog a bath and one to go with them to the vet. “I might want to be a vet,” Jake says.