Sarah and Mr. Fuzz
Disclaimer: I don't own Mark, but Mr. Fuzz is my creation and Sarah is somewhat mine.
Focusing…zoom in on the little girl sitting on the couch with her teddy bear, pan left on to the flowers set on the table…zoom in to…
The sound of a cry was all it took for me to turn my head away from my camera. I then came eye-to-eye with two sad and crying blue eyes. I couldn't help but to smile.
'What's wrong, Sarah?' I asked gently.
'Jonny took Mr. Fuzz,' she sniffed and cried.
Sarah was Cindy's baby, she had a strange emotional attachment to her teddy bear, whom she named Mr. Fuzz. For some reason, I had honestly believed that Sarah thought that her bear was alive, for she spoke to him as if he could hear her and sometimes she would even hold conversations with him.
'I hate being called Jonny, it makes it sound like I'm two,' Jonathan stated.
And Cindy's oldest was Jonathan. At eight he already expressed high interest in religion, especially Judaism and wanted to learn what he could. Usually he got along with his sister, but he told me he thought she was 'silly and imagined things.'
'You know how she feels about Mr. Fuzz, so why make her upset?' I asked.
Jonathan looked straight at me unhappily and just dropped the stuffed bear. 'Sarah's silly, she thinks that thing can talk to her.'
'Jonny, he does talk!' Sarah insisted, running to scoop up her beloved doll, 'tell Mr. Fuzz you're sorwy!'
'No.' Jonathan turned his head at the sound of a car horn. 'Mom, Andy's mom is here! I'm going to Hebrew school' and he made a dash for the door with Sarah trailing after him, crying and telling him to say, 'sorry' to her bear.
I had been oddly quiet throughout the small sibling spat. Cindy was never particularly rude or mean to me when we were children. Of course we did have our fights over toys, but she never really picked on me. It was kind of odd that I continued to remain silent as my five year-old niece sniffled and cried saying that her brother was a 'meanie' and that he had hurt Mr. Fuzz's feelings.
Finally, acting like an adult that I should have been, I spoke to Sarah. 'Sarah, come here,' I said in a gentle voice, patting the sofa.
Sarah sniffled and spoke to her bear as she came over to me. Gently, I picked her up and sat her on my lap. Her lips quivered as more tears slipped from her eyes. 'Uncle Mark, Why does Jonny have to take Mr. Fuzz?'
'Sarah, he's just jealous…because you have such a special friend,' I said, god, I was sounding like my mom.
'Can you give Mr. Fuzz a kiss and tell him that Jonny didn't mean it?'
Anything to appease a child, I though a bit as I forced a smile. 'Sure.'
So, she held out her bear for me to kiss and make better. Quickly, hopefully not too quickly I kissed the stuffed bear, meanwhile I felt silly doing so. When I pulled away, I could see that Sarah was looking a little happier.
'Mr. Fuzz…Jonathan didn't mean what he said…he's just jealous,' I said, still feeling silly, but seeing Sarah smile was worth it.
'He says, "it's ok, Jonny's a meanie,"' she said.
'Is that so? Well, Jonathan just…umm…a boy and he needs to grow up a little.'
'Anna says boys have cooties.'
Oh, so they were into the cootie game already. These things are getting younger and younger. The 'sacred' thing that kept young children away from the opposite sex or even an unwanted person had been around since I could remember. Interesting thing really…
'Do all boys have cooties?' I asked. 'Do I have cooties?'
Why was I playing into this game? I thought to myself, a child's game of separation and definitely sexism.
Sarah just giggled and shook her head, 'No. My Uncle Mark doesn't have cooties!' And she twisted herself in my lap, so that she faced me and gave me a big hug. 'Tell me a story, please?'
Smiling, I nodded and started to tell her a story that I made up about a Princess, since she loved princesses. Did you know that Sarah was Hebrew for princess? My niece was always a princess to me.