I’m pretty sure shopping at Christmas time is one of the higher levels of hell.
Parking is impossible, people take up whole aisles just so they can stare at their phones, and Niko wants to stop and look at every light and decoration on display. It’s been fifteen minutes, and I’m already cursing myself for deciding thattodaywas going to be the day that I picked up the tools the internet has assured me will get paint off hardwood flooring.
I should’ve waited. Until March, probably. When everyone’s gone home and decided to only go outside in reasonable numbers instead of forcing me to contend with the most inconsiderate, selfish humans alive while I’m trying to wrangle an excited toddler.
I wasn’t feeling well this morning, and navigating through the crowds isn’t helping. And if the guy at the end of the aisle wearing a cloud of cologne takes a single step closer to me, I’m going to puke on his shoes.
Maybe it would be easier if the store kept all the Christmas decorations to one part of the store, but to get where I need to, I have to dance through the light displays, navigate both the real and plastic trees, and resist the lure of the yard decorations.
Now, finally, the promised land is in sight.
Twenty feet away, the cleaning supplies beckon, calling my name. I just need to get through the sea of people staring at the inflatable lawn decorations, and I’ll be able to escape this place relatively unscathed. I consider using my hands as blinders to keep Niko focused on the task at hand, but as someone carelessly walks into my shoulder, jostling me, I decide that it’s smarter to keep his hand tight in mine so he can’t wander off.
“Mama, look!”
Biting back a sigh, I stop, trying to figure out what Niko’s so excited about this time. It doesn’t take long.
Right at his eye level is an inflatable stegosaurus wearing a jolly scarf. It isn’t big, maybe the size of a corgi, but Niko’s face is bright; it’s as if he just saw Santa Claus in the flesh. My gut drops, already trying to figure out how to negotiate my way out of a temper tantrum before he even asks.
“Can we get it?”
I start making a sympathetic but non-committal noise when it hits me.
I want to buy him the damn dinosaur, and there’s no one to stop me.
The only reason I instinctively wanted to say no was because Daniil would’ve made a big deal about how tacky and classless he found it, like he did every other time Niko asked for one.
If I bought it when he was still alive, he would’ve thrown it out and washed his hands of the whole thing when Niko cried because his new favorite yard decoration was gone.
He wouldn’t have cared that it made Niko happy; the only thing that would have mattered to him would be how other people viewed it.
But Daniil’s opinion never should have mattered when it comes to making Niko happy, and it definitely doesn’t matter now. I eye the shelf before I sigh, looking toward the front of the store, already dreading the trek back to the entrance. Resigned, I pick up Nikolai to make it a little bit easier.
When I turn around, he turns his watery eyes to me, cracking my heart in two. For a moment, I want to cry, too.
“We aren’t getting him?”
I almost laugh at how quickly he switches from calling the dinosaur anitto ahe. Like in the minute since he realized it was a thing he could have, he’s created a whole backstory and personality for it.
“We are. But we’re going to need a cart.”
With my luck, I’m going to have to find a way to not make that dinosaur seasonal, because he’s going to throw a fit when I try to pack it away after the holidays.
***
I’m impressed by Niko’s ability to stay out of the way as I work another spike into the ground, shoulders aching from the effort of making sure each one is planted so it can keep the inflatable inplace. I’m about to call him over to help me turn on the electric pump when we both spot Andrei’s car rolling into the driveway.
Niko waits by the patio, bouncing on his feet until the car turns off, only then sprinting toward it, arms wide and voice loud as he launches himself into Andrei’s arms. His mouth works hard to keep up with his brain as he regurgitates everything that happened while Andrei was out.
I almost laugh at Andrei’s bewildered face as he half listens, looking across the yard at the new additions.
Two of our new decorations are positioned face-to-face, grinning at each other just like Niko wanted. Two more are on either side of the mailbox, keeping watch for passersby. One is set up half behind the tree as if it’s hiding, and when I turn on the pump, the last one will be set up near the patio, ready to greet anyone who happens to stop by.
They’re ridiculous, but seeing Niko’s excitement for each one is worth it. I can’t wait to see what they look like after the sun goes down.
Andrei holds Niko’s hand as they head toward the door, and I fiddle with the cuff of my sweater, unease curling down my spine. Andrei won’t make a scene in front of Nikolai, but what if he hates them?
I won’t let him throw them out, and part of me knows he won’t make a fuss over something as minor as what the yard looks like.
