This was posted on my original blog, about a hundred years ago. I'm still haunted by this tale--ed.
When I was little kid, maybe four or five years old, my parents did something horrible to me. I still hold a grudge.
It was Christmas morning, circa 1967. I woke up and ran straight to the tree. And what I saw was too good to be true. There was a drum set. A sparkling red drum set. Santa left it for me.
I played those drums all day. It was fantastic. I played through lunch and dinner. I played until it was time to go to bed. I played until I was forced to stop.
The next morning I woke up early and ran straight for the drums, but when I got there the drums were gone. Vanished without a trace. I completely freaked out.
“Where are my drums!” I screamed. “They’re gone!”
My mother was standing over me. I knew something was terribly wrong.
“Santa came and took the drums away last night. He said you were too little to play them, and that he would bring them back when you get older.”
I began to shriek and wail. I cried and cried, while my mother just looked on. I was shocked that Santa would do something like this. It was horribly cruel. It was unjust.
Somehow, over the next ten years, I forgot about the incident.
Then one day I was up in the attic looking for something. I must have been around fifteen at the time. The attic was like a messy museum. To find anything you had to dig and explore, move boxes covered with dust and tightrope walk on the beams so you wouldn’t fall through the ceiling.
I had just moved a box and way in the back something caught my eye. I swept the flashlight beam in that direction. What I saw was astonishing. It was the red drum set.
I climbed back there at great personal risk and retrieved the drums and cymbals. The whole episode came back to me with remarkable clarity. I was very sad. However, my emotion soon turned to anger. I went downstairs and found my parents.
“I can’t believe what you did,” I said.
“What are you talking about?” my mother said.
“I found the drums! I found the goddamned drums from when I was five! Santa took them away, remember?”
“Oh, boy. Here we go,” she said.
“Yes. Here we go indeed. Do you know I thought I imagined all that? I can’t believe the cruelty.”
“Listen,” she said in a calm voice. “You banged away on those things for hours. You were driving us all nuts. It was so loud that we couldn’t have a conversation. The noise was terrible, we had to do something.”
I walked away from the conversation. I have never forgotten that episode. And every Christmas since then I have brought it up to my mother. It was 35 years ago and I’m still pissed off.
Wow that's a horrible thing to do. You know, if they thought it was so noisy I would think they would limit your access to it, you know? Man... "Santa says your too young" .. some people don't even consider kids reactions or feelings.
I don't know if you have kids now or plan to in the future, but give them the drum set someday. Then you will know. Maybe you will give them a better excuse than your parents did to you - but you will at least know why they did it. Noise makers are forbidden to be given as gifts in my house, and only my sister thinks it is funny to disobey my directives (**bitch**). Those toys usually get "lost"
Kids make noise. It's what they do. My daughter loves to make noise. With anything. I don't take her toys away, though. If the noise becomes too much for me to handle temporarily, I involve her in a quieter activity. Toy's get"lost"? That's horrible. If you don't want the responsibilities and problems of having children, don't. If a particular toy or activity becomes a problem, treat your child with some respect, and come to some reasonable compromise. Don't lie to them, fer chris'sakes! "Noise makers"? My daughter is two, and we've begun a tradition of giving her a musical instrument every year. Last year, it was a harmonica. This year? A drum set. And you can bet Santa won't "decide she's too young".
Must've been in the days before practice pads.
But can you honestly blame them? There you are, enjoying the few days off work you have each year, and your goddamn kid is pounding away on some god-forsaken drumset all day. You're drunk to drown the sound but your ears are still bleeding, the kid's got no damn rhthym, it's all you can do to not throw an empty bottle at the little bastard.
Just playin' the devil's advocate is all.
Byron, you compromise with your kid? Your job is to be their parent, not their buddy.
We didn't forbid noise, but it was limited in volume, duration and timing. You have to set parameters or you wind up negotiating rules with the child. That isn't good for parent or kid.
I often asked my kids what their opinion was on various things, but they also knew that the final decision was mine alone. A family isn't a democracy, and everyone doesn't get a vote unless it amuses the king to allow it.
I'm with MojoMark about noisy toys, although my solution was to let everyone know ahead of time what was allowed, verify that the gifts were acceptable, and immediately return to the giver anything that wasn't. My sis-in-law got the message soon enough, and we had quite a bit of fun giving each other's kids "bad" presents like spin-art sets and suntan Barbies, trying to sneak 'em in.
Paul, I think your folks really screwed up that one. It explains a lot about your personality too. We're you an alter boy?
Shank, I think we're coming to the same idea, but our words are different. My daughter knows when I say no, I mean it. I just don't tend to worry over a little noise. I like your solution to the problem. Noise doesn't bother me, so I choose a different solution. Sounds like we both treat our kids like humans..not pets. I am my daughter's buddy, but before that, I am her parent, and what I say goes.