Thursday, October 1st, 2009

     I had the stupidest dream last night.

     I was walking in the woods and came across a pit in the ground. It was well worn and looked like it was dug years ago. The top of a ladder was poking out of the top of the hole. I didn’t want to look inside, but I found myself walking closer. I peered over the edge, but there was nothing down there. Then I heard laughter behind me and a tap on my shoulder, but when I turned to see who it was, I woke up.

     I spoke with Dr. Hopper today, and I’m going to do something I swore I’d never do: I’m going to indulge Henry. Not to say I don’t. Henry always gets what he wants, almost. I certainly haven’t raised a spoiled brat, but he isn’t wanting, either. Still, there’s one area I stay away from.

     The inevitable came soon enough. I remember when Henry came home from his first day of first grade. He was crying. He’d never been so sad.

     “What’s wrong, my love?” I bent down and dried his tears.

     “Sam’s not in my class this year.” He didn’t want to look at me. “He’s still in kindergarten.”

     Sam and Henry were inseparable. They did everything together.

     “Well, you must be very smart to advance to the next grade.”

     “I don’t want to be smart.” He tore away from me and stomped on each word. “I! Want! My! Best! Friend!”

     “You can still be best friends with Sam.” I followed him.

     “But it won’t be the same!”

     “No, but you can make new friends too.”

     “I don’t want new friends!”

     Henry was right, his friendship with Sam was never the same, but I was right, too, and he made new friends in his new class. But then second grade began and not only were his first grade friends still in first grade, but Sam was still in kindergarten. Explaining that one to him was a bit more difficult. That’s when I called a meeting with the school board and integrated the grades in Storybrooke elementary. His questions eased about being the only student to advance at the school, but there have still been other problems.

     I know I remembered everything after that forgetting charm broke, but I was still never certain of Henry’s parentage. There’s still a chance he may not even be the savior’s child. There were once tons of magic beans back home. It’s entirely possible that someone came over hundreds of years ago and he’s descended from that person. So what if Dr. Mercer said he’s never seen that marker-thing before? He couldn’t have tested everyone in the world, could he?

     Even so, it’s still very hard to not think that maybe he could be the son of the savior. I remember later, the same year he was sick, when Halloween was getting closer. It would be the first Halloween when Henry would really comprehend what dressing up and trick-or-treating was all about.

     “What would you like to dress up as, this year?”

     “I want to be a knight!”

     I just couldn’t bring myself to allow that. What if I let him go as a knight and something clicked in his head? What if he figured out who gave birth to him and then he doesn’t want me as his mother?

     So that year, he was the saddest cowboy ever. The next year, his desire to be a knight hadn’t wavered, so he was the saddest astronaut ever. And each year after that, our ritual of desiring and denying continued. Halloweens found his as the most grievous ghost ever, the bleakest blood-sucker ever, the most pitiful pirate ever, and the most remorseful robot ever.

     This approaching holiday is proving no different. Henry is being extra nice and is begging me every day to be a knight. I need to prevent him from wanting to do this, and that’s what brought Henry and me to Dr. Hopper’s office. I didn’t tell Henry that was the reason, of course. Dr. Hopper did a full evaluation on Henry. The next day, I visited the doctor by myself to hear the results. Dr. Hopper’s conclusion was that my son was a normal boy with a healthy imagination. He questioned me when he saw I was dissatisfied with his results, so I told him about his idea for a Halloween costume. I gave false reasons for not wanting him to dress as a knight, but for each one I gave, Dr. Hopper had a sensible response that made each one sound silly.

     “Regina,” Dr. Hopper leaned forward in his chair when he knew I was out of answers. “You only get a very small window where a child is a child. Why not let him dress up as a knight just once, before he doesn’t want to dress up at all?”

     Tears actually welled up in my eyes. The doctor had hit on a truth. Henry was getting older and would always get older, even if he was smart enough to see that the other children would not. I wiped my tears away and nodded in resolution to Dr. Hopper’s reasoning. When I went home and told Henry I’d decided to let him be a knight for Halloween, he was so excited that he danced around his room.

     When it was time for dinner, Henry ran downstairs with a note from Miss Blanchard.

     “I forgot to tell you!” He handed me the letter and told me what it said before I could read it. “Our class is going on a field trip to the television station the day before Halloween, and we get to be on Good Morning, Storybrooke! You need to sign it so I can go.”

     “How long have you had this note?”

     “A month, I think. Tomorrow’s the last day to turn it in.” His eyes were shifty. Henry always waited until the last minute on things like this. “I didn’t want to go before, but now that I get to be a knight, I want to. Can I, please?”

     I read the permission slip from top to bottom. “This note says they’re looking for parent chaperones, as well. I’ll ask Miss Blanchard if it’s not too late to come.”

     “Aw, mom!”

     “I won’t interfere with anything.” I put the letter down and held my hands up in front of me. “But if my son’s going to be on TV and I have a chance to be there, I’m taking it.”

     It took a moment, but once Henry realized I said he could go, he gave me a big hug.