Seriously, I gave my son coal one Christmas. It is forever part of my history as the year I Blew Up Christmas, but alas, for my son, he will always be known as The Boy Who Got Coal. I need to point out that said boy, is nearly 22, but that doesn't matter. He is legend and this story is what makes it so.
I have a friend Bonny. Once upon a time we both were single mothers in Florida, trying to just live day to day and sharing our laughter and frustration in raising children. Her daughter Michelle was a true delight. Adorable, smart, funny---Michelle was the kind of child you wish for. My son too, is a child you wish for, but raising him I often wished for him to go to sleep, just for a while, so I could rest my ears from the constant barrage of, "Why? Why? WHY?" TJ was also adorable, funny and smart, but he suffered from a lack of restraint. If he believed something, he told you whether you wanted to hear it or not. And that particular Christmas, the one I blew up, he was in an argumentative stage that seemed to last from age 4 to age 9, continuously.
Back to Bonny. Well, I often harassed this poor friend with a series of traditions that would make her nuts. I had an Easter Bunny who left gold eggs and gold footprints: a leprechaun who left gold coins (chocolate) and an Italian donkey who left pajamas (long story, but suffice to say Lou Monti didn't do ME any favors with Domenic the Donkey). When I moved back to New York, I think Bonny was relieved that at least without me and my imagination, she didn't have to worry about putting out carrots for Ground Hog's Day or decorate a tree for Arbor Day.
So my first Christmas back in New York, our children were, respectively, about 8. My son was at the peak of the argumentative state and with me working around the clock, his charming disposition wasn't always appreciated by family members who were kindly babysitting him. I shared this with Bonny who then sent on a package, addressed to me, saying "SERIOUSLY, DO NOT OPEN UNTIL CHRISTMAS EVE AND OPEN BY PAT ONLY!"
I am a rule follower. If you tell me not to open something I don't open it. So there was this package under my tree and after working countless hours on Christmas Eve, and hearing from family and friends that my son had virtually questioned and argued about everything that evening, I was feeling less than jolly. I also had gifts to wrap, stockings to fill and when I was finished, it was around 3:00 am. Now, take it from me, this is NOT the time to make decisions of any kind. But there I was, ready to write the Santa letter and I saw Bonny's present. So, realizing it was indeed now, Christmas Day, I opened it. And there it was: the object of my undoing, a tiny bag of coal.
Bonny had included a note that basically said, "Thought you could use this!" And at 3:00 am, again, a bad time to make any kind of decisions, it made sense to me. So along with the letter from Santa, I included the tiny bag of coal, and a sentence that stated, "This is Reminder Coal. It is to Remind You of The Reason for The Season and to listen to your family and behave or next year, I may have to bring in a big bag." I placed the letter on the table, cleared the cookies and the carrots and settled down for what was anything but a long winter's nap.
At 6:00 am Christmas arrived at my home. My son resembled a Norman Rockwell painting, dressed in holiday pajamas, Santa hat on his head and dancing in excitement. He went straight to the table and began to read the letter, his eyes lit with joy---that was until he got to the part about the coal. Suddenly tears began to stream from his eyes and he looked at me and howled, "SANTA DOESN'T LIKE ME! HE ISN'T MY FRIEND ANY MORE!!" I have to admit it, I panicked. No amount of showing him presents under the tree, the full stockings or the part in the letter that Santa referred to the coal as only a reminder, didn't make a bit of difference. My son wandered around the house wailing, "I don't deserve anything! I got coal, I got coal, I got COAL!"As a parent, there are many times we doubt ourselves, but I was pretty darn sure I had, indeed, blown up Christmas. Just then the phone rang and my son's father called out a bright and cheery, "Merry Christmas!"
I whispered into the phone, "Just tell him it's reminder coal and it will disappear."
"What are you talking about?? What's reminder coal?"
"JUST DO IT!" I hissed and handed my son the phone. Santa must have been watching because my ex-husband, who never did anything exactly as I asked, said his lines as if he was a Oscar Winner.
"Don't cry buddy. Santa just sent reminder coal. It disappears right away."
Our son continued to sob on the phone missing my quick slight of hand as I pocketed the reminder coal and stashed it out of sight.
"No...daddy....I got...coal....and it's...HEY! HEY! It did disappear! Just like you said, Dad. You're the best!"
So that's the story of the boy who got coal. Whenever I share that story parents everywhere who think about sticking a big of coal under the tree laugh and then reconsider. Children have actually gone up to my son through the years and asked, "Did you really get coal?" and my son nods. He is now 22, but he will be forever a legend to children everywhere as The Boy Who Got Coal. Just as I am a legend with parents everywhere as The Mom Who Blew Up Christmas!
.And Bonny? Well she continues to laugh every year when she thinks about this story, that is until she needs to find a gold egg to leave Michelle from the Easter Bunny.
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