The Face of Disappointment
Christmas 2016. I admit. I didn’t read the fine print. Her letter to Santa clearly stated “DOK MK STUFINS.” Creative spelling is always up for interpretation, but I knew better. She asked Santa for a Doc McStuffins. It was a casual, not so casual oversight on my part. Selfishly I didn’t want another plastic something in our house so, I was going to blame it on Santa.
The usual hub bub of Christmas morning went off without a hitch. Luke and Harley were singing and dancing to the sweet song of Christmas Joy. I was giving myself AIR high-fives. Certainly nothing beats the elated energy of young children on Christmas morning.
Suddenly however, her energy stilled. It got heavy, sad, disappointed.
Oh no. My heart grew heavy, my head raced. Bing! There was no Doc McStuffins under the tree. It was my fault, I ruined her Christmas.
Wait, Wait, Wait…. pull back the reins for a second. You know the saying “I wish I knew then, what I know now?” Yes. That’s what I’m talking about.
What transpired next was a series of events I’m not necessarily proud of. I fell victim to avoiding pain, avoiding hurt, avoiding disappointment.
On the morning of December 26th, I nervously sprung out of bed, hurried to my car and drove directly to Toys R’ Us. Racing through the aisles, I found her. The gold light and “AHHHHH” song surrounded the oversized Doc McStuffins box. I saved the day! Gone is ALL disappointment. We don’t have to feel hurt. WRONG.
I rushed home before Harley woke up and nonchalantly placed Doc outside her bedroom door. I was jumping out of my skin when I walked through her bedroom and announced something was waiting for her in the hallway.
Hold on a second… was this for me or her? Both or neither? Why was I SO afraid of her feeling disappointed? Instead, I tried to cover the whole thing up. Pretend like it didn’t happen. Santa made a mistake and I wanted to fix it.
Sure enough, Harley opened her door, appeared both happy and confused and then scooped up the lonely box sitting in the hallway. We had a brief conversation about Santa’s bag having a hole in it and sometimes gifts fall out. Talk about holes…. I was digging myself a big one.
As days past, the novelty quickly wore off and neither Harley or myself learned a thing. I reached for the box of band aids and covered both our wounds.
Hindsight 20/20. Instead, I wish I held space for her to move through disappointment. Instead, I wish I sat next to her as the disappointment rose to her heart, her throat, her tears and said “I know this hurts. I know you’re feeling sad, but you will be ok and I love you.”
Just like the excitement of the doll dwindled, the agony of disappointment dwindles too but you have to be willing to feel it in its entirety. And yes, all humans, regardless of age, are capable of holding space for pain.
I know this was the first of many and the plastic doll I resisted actually was an incredible teacher. Thank you Doc. McStuffins. I owe you.
