For a little boy, a toy rocket can be the most important thing in the world.
My wife was heading in for a shower, and my three-year-old son was building a rocket with his Duplo blocks. Not just any rocket. He's three. His imagination is crushingly specific. It was the Redstone, the rocket that catapulted Alan B. Shepard's Freedom 7 space capsule out of the atmosphere. Realize, Shepard not only reached outer space, he peed his pants doing it.
Rockets just replaced steam locomotives in D's life. Building them out of Duplo became an obsession. But rockets are tall, Duplo blocks come crashing down, leaving little boys in tears.
D had never ever thought there might be such a thing as a toy rocket, already built, sturdy enough to resist a baby sister. The concept was world-shaking. How was it that we, his parents who profess to love him, had never thought to get him a toy rocket before? He needed a toy rocket. Preferably a Friendship 7 (John Glenn's capsule). At least a space shuttle.While my wife showered, he melted.
I promised to get him a toy rocket in the next few days. More tears. How could we, knowing that such things as toy rockets existed, leave him to play with makeshift contraptions that fell apart in when a draft swept through our apartment?
My wife, coming out of the shower to see his cheeks dripping with tears, said that perhaps we could get him a rocket before his swim class. But he was so excited we couldn't get him dressed, and there wasn't time. We called the toy store, made sure they had some kind of realistic rocket, and promised that I'd take him after swimming.
Up until recently, I was in the pool with him during his swim classes. Now he's at drop-off. I watch from poolside. Usually, when I ask him how things went, he says, "Great!" This time it was "no fun." Pizza at his favorite restaurant "wasn't very good."
I got him in the stroller, and started the long walk (five Manhattan avenues) to the toy store. It was cold, he was cold, but he wouldn't let me drop him at home. He fell asleep. I noted that there was a Christmas store (in October!) on the way. He loves Christmas. We'd stop there on the way back.
A woman at the store fetched me the rocket, quickly. It was a space shuttle. I woke him. "D, is this OK?" He came to and grabbed the box. I bought it. There was no visit Christmas store. He started singing a song about his space shuttle.
And all the way home, he hugged that box like all his dreams were in it.
