The Nutcracker

Following his preschool’s trip to The Nutcracker two weeks ago, Alton has noted nutcracker sightings wherever we go. Nutcracker motifs among window decals and painted upon cookies, and naturally, nutcracker dolls themselves.

I believed, over time, this fascination would fade, like his love of cutting a single piece of construction paper into several hundred little pieces of construction paper, or throwing things from the loft, or throwing things from the balcony, or throwing things. But some things last. And nutcrackers, they last.

Yesterday evening we were walking through Safeway and happened upon a display of discounted nutcrackers – “6.99,” the pricing stickers read. Although Alton can’t yet read numbers, or understand discounts, he looked at me with a face that seemed to say with endearing pain, “Mommy, you wouldn’t deny me my current dream of owning a discounted Safeway nutcracker, would you?”

He insisted on placing the wood doll in a produce bag, and did so as if it were a Bosc pear or box of multigrain cereal. As we walked home, he held the nutcracker wrapped tightly in its bag and asked if I would permit the nutcracker to sleep in his bed. I did. Which meant come 4:30 in the morning, he also slept in my bed.

Alton hasn’t let the nutcracker leave his side, and even just the thought of his latest expression of self causes tears to line my lashes. Unintentionally, yet evermore powerfully, Alton reminds me to appreciate simplicity. And sometimes simplicity looks like a garish wooden doll with a bedazzled red dress coat and long-handled golden ax.