When I asked Fearless what he wanted for Christmas he replied without hesitation: “the Lego Batman Cave”.

“Hmmm. That is one expensive gift,” I said and he answered “don’t worry Mami, Santa is the one that has to pay for it.”

Needless to say he was one happy camper on Christmas day.

I like Legos, but I don’t love them.  I did love the time it took to build the cave.  We put on some music, sat around the dinning room table and began a building frenzy.   Dreamer (age seven) had received another Lego set and had begun work on that while I helped Fearless (age five) with his Batman Cave and it’s five separate bags containing 689 teeny tiny pieces to assemble.  Fearless contemplated each step.

First came the Bat-cycle.  I showed Fearless how to follow directions, how to make sure you were putting things in the right place and using the right pieces.  He had never tackled such a big project before.  We then moved to the Baine-mobile and completed that.  Everyone was happy, I thought we had been incredibly productive and was ready to call it a day but Fearless wanted more: he wanted to do the WHOLE Bat-cave.  I have a low tolerance for staying inside on a beautiful Florida winter day so I overruled him and we went outside to play.

When we did come back home, he went straight to the table.  I was still not ready to get back to building but he was insistent.  I said “no” and then it came … “I can do it by myself Mami.”Here lay my conundrum.  I wasn’t sure he could do it and I flashed forward to a very frustrated, aggravated, crying child who missed a crucial step at the beginning and now has to restart the process that began a couple of hours earlier.  I also envisioned lost pieces, mixed up pieces, and my, Santa’s investment dispersed throughout my living room.

But he wanted to do it, it was his gift and once a gift is given it should be theirs and not mine to control.  Sure, there are some exceptions, but this didn’t seem like one.  So for the next three days, whatever time we spent inside Fearless spent building the remainder of his Bat-cave.  His brother would help every once in a while and I would too but he progressed mostly by himself.

There was complete harmony in the building phase.  There was quiet concentration and cooperation.  Even if the cave did not look exactly like it does on the box the process led to complete satisfaction.  Fearless beamed with pride when he announced he was finished as I too beamed with pride watching him.

Our dinner table had become the Lego station and after all the projects were completed the boys decided to play with them, and unless there is a trick I don’t know about (and if so, please enlighten me) Legos break.  The Bat-cave was steadily decomposing.  As crucial pieces got lost, frustrations mounted, and tears ensued.  My boys wanted their Lego creations to return to that perfect point when the last piece came together. I wanted to throw their Lego creations out the window… but not really.

It’s a lesson in letting go of the past, a state that we might believe was perfect.  Fearless’ Bat-cave had its imperfections though he remembers it to be just right.    Now the “new” Bat-cave model has a broken elevator missing a side, and Ivy’s holding cell missing its jail bars.  Once he accepted pieces have been lost presumably forever inside Penelope’s (the cat) stomach or in our apartment’s black hole (along with tens of socks), a switch turned on and he loves his cave as it is, at that moment for everyday it decomposes just a bit more and he rebuilds it a little bit differently.

In my grown up mind I think “the one thing Fearless asked for Christmas lasted a week.  What a waste.”  In Fearless’ child mind he probably thinks “Santa rocks.”