Mr. Carter and I were getting ready to go to a birthday party when he asked if he could pick out my earrings. Mr. Carter is already a man who enjoys feminine qualities in girls, and as the son of two mothers, he understands all that goes into a girl trying to be pretty. Encouraging this hands-on desire to help out, I said yes and told him to go ahead into my closet where I keep my earrings and select a pair.
I went to get something from another room, and when I returned, I asked how it was going. He replied, “Good,” and then added, “I didn’t see anything I wasn’t supposed to.” Smiling, I knew there was nothing embarrassing he would have come across in there and at first wasn’t sure what he was trying to hide.
Then I knew.
“You saw your presents, didn’t you?” I asked.
“I didn’t see anything I wasn’t supposed to,” he replied as he pointed out the earrings I should wear.
I am one of those who shops ahead. My son’s birthday is in October, so throughout the year I might find things for both his birthday and Christmas and decide closer to the time which event gets which gift. I chose the top shelf of my closet as a place to store these items for a couple of reasons. One, I wouldn’t forget what I had, since I’d see it every day. And two, my son used to be too small to see that high up.
Not thinking it through when I said he could choose my earrings — and the fact he is now up to my ears in height at nine years old — he easily caught a glimpse of several items I had placed in my hiding spot. Nervous about getting in trouble, but still an honest soul, he found a safe way to acknowledge he was privy to something he knew he shouldn’t have discovered. I told him he did nothing wrong, and it was my fault.
It reminded me of the time when I was around his age and made a similar discovery. I woke up in the middle of the night and wanted a glass of water. I made my way to our kitchen, but noticed the door leading to the kitchen/living area was closed, usually done to lessen the noise of the television after bedtime, so I thought nothing of opening the door and going in. But this was Christmas Eve. The scramble I heard of paper and boxes and the attempt to hide things as I walked in was comical, but I knew if I didn’t think fast, I’d be in serious trouble for interrupting my parents.
So, I began to “sleepwalk.”
I had a history of sleepwalking, so it wasn’t something overtly ridiculous and seemed to work, as my mother helped me back to bed. I really didn’t see anything other than what I thought was a pair of high-top shoes for my brother. It turned out they were really roller skates for me, so even if I had been trying to spy on them, I would have gotten it wrong.
Both situations created the same need: a new spot for hiding gifts.