“Short’s
Lucky Numbers: 15, 25, 8, 32, 12, 4.”
I recognize
this information, as the numbers were copied directly from the slip of paper in
his fortune cookie from the Chinese take-out we finished mere moments ago. Not sure why he couldn’t grab a magnet and
stick the fortune itself right up there instead of having to spend the time
re-writing it.
“Because I
don’t want Tall to think they are his
numbers, or Pop or you to think they are your
numbers! They are my lucky numbers,” he explains
patiently. Then he continues: “I am so glad I know them now.” I have to suppress a smile. He somehow thinks that whoever packed up his sticky rice and sweet and sour beef also happens to hold the keys to his future, via important lucky numbers.
“Mommy, how
old were you when you found out your lucky numbers?”
I am
realizing that six-year-olds take the information dispensed to them from
whatever source, reputable or not, without question. Teacher says not to run in the hall, so that
must be a fact. You cannot have dessert
unless you eat most of your broccoli first:
indisputable fact. Santa comes
down the chimney, even if you do not have a fireplace? Accepted fact. Chinese restaurant bestows your special
numbers to you? Now you commit them to
memory, as they are a new and crucial fact of your life.
The next day
we are driving and Short notices the speed limit sign.
“Mommy! Did you see that? My number:
25! On the sign! Look! My
lucky number!” He is bouncing in the
booster seat. “It’s happening already,
this is so great!”
I am not
sure exactly what is happening, except that I was going 35 and now I tap on the
breaks to stay within the speed limit.
At the dry
cleaners later, the clerk calls my number:
“I can help number 32, 32 please?”
Short is tugging
at my elbow insistently. “Mommy! Did you hear that? My lucky number!”
This
continues on in any situation we encounter over the next several days: how many cars are parked in a row (4), how
many eggs in the dozen we just bought (12), or how many gallons it takes to
fill up my car (15). Lucky numbers
abound.
I want to
set him straight, to tell him that just because someone says something to him (“These
are your lucky numbers”) does not make it true.
How can children believe anything without questioning it? At what age do we get savvy and cynical and
start to question the so-called “facts” as subjective?
Now we are
at the department store, as I need to buy some eye cream. The clerk tells me about the latest miracle
cream and how it erases fine lines quickly.
“If you use this twice a day, you will see dramatic results in just two weeks,” she says, her college-age skin looking like it will never need eye-cream. “It is fabulous, revolutionary! You should get it, it will make you look 10 years younger.”
I nod at
her. Eye cream. Revolutionary. Ten years younger.
“And we are
having a sale! The eye cream is 25% off,
just for today. This must be your lucky
day.”
I have never
heard of this cream nor this brand, but the salesgirl is telling me it
works. Who am to argue? I buy the eye cream. Apparently, this must be my lucky day.
MOV
