The Grand Illusion
About a week ago, Van was accepted into two accelerated academic programs at school. The result of a nomination from his first grade teacher, the programs will allow him to learn at an advanced pace next year. We are very proud. So proud in fact that I quickly took to Facebook to share his accomplishment, our accomplishment, with both our closest and most distant family and friends.
“Wonderful news!” wrote one friend. “That’s a huge deal!” wrote another. “Way to go, Van!” echoed someone else. “I couldn’t love this more,” said my Mom.
I smiled as the accolades continued pouring in. He’s come a long way, yes. We’ve all worked very hard. But one comment from his great grandmother, Rod’s grandmother, gave me pause. She wrote, “I am so proud to tell people you’re my great grandson.”
I wondered would she be proud to know he hasn’t eaten a vegetable in three weeks. That he argues with us at length every time we ask him to do, well, anything. Would she be proud to learn that just days ago I had to drag him in the house after throwing a fit for refusing to retrieve Nerf pellets in the backyard? Rod’s strong, independent, amazing grandmother raised three successful children as a widowed single mother. Do I really have her fooled?
It was then I realized if I have 98-year-old Alma Crowder fooled then I must have everyone else fooled too. Because what I don’t post about are the hours-long screaming matches or the times he gets so upset that he throws nearly every book off his bookshelf. I don’t write about the seemingly endless dinners that require threats, bribery, and occasional (OK regular) expletives.
On Instagram and Facebook, Van is a pillar of wit and stunning good looks. He’s the funniest. The brightest. The most handsome. A true gift of God’s love, one candid shot away from taking Jesus’ spot at the right hand of the throne.
Van as gorgeous as ever. Not pictured? His refusal to turn and face the stage as a musician performed a beautiful solo.
But that doesn’t mean he can’t be a little shit offline. I just don’t post about it. And this, I think, is what we need to remind ourselves of when we see photo upon photo of glorious child saying hilarious things or happy families posed outside the Magic Kingdom in our newsfeeds.
As someone who doesn’t even like Disney World and has very little interest in ever going back, I shouldn’t be jealous or envious that someone I barely see, and in some cases barely know, is riding Space Mountain eating a Dole Whip while wearing mouse ears. But I am. Because that person is having a better time than I am. That person looks happier than I do. That person is spending time with her family in a tank top and shorts while I’m scrunched up on the couch with lukewarm coffee yelling at my kid to turn down the TV in the next room.
Reflecting on how much I’ve bamboozled my friends and my husband’s grandmother (which of course in her case I haven’t - there’s no fooling a matriarch like that) has made me recognize that the questions I have when scrolling through my newsfeed shouldn’t be how can this family be so happy or didn’t they just go on vacation. The questions I should be asking, we all should be asking, include:
How hard did they work to save for this trip? How many outings and restaurant dinners did they sacrifice in order to make this vacation happen? How were the kids on the plane? Did an iPad battery die mid-flight and cause a cataclysmic meltdown next to some prickly guy in a suit? Was the Magic Express on time? Were the other passengers tired and sweaty too? Did someone forget to pack sunscreen, an Epipen, or the youngest child’s favorite blanket? How far did they make it on the Monorail before the baby needed a diaper change? Did their Magic Bands work the first time or did some guy with a tablet need a blood sample to verify their identity? How many hours did it take to finally get to this spot in front of Cinderella’s Castle to take this pic? And how many tries did it take to finally get it right?
Our own trip to Disney in 2015. See the look on Van’s face? That’s the closest we could get him to smile after six hours of travel that included a car, a plane, a tram, a bus, and a boat.