It started when he was only four. Most kids would tear open a toy the moment they get it, right? They would ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ over the wrapping, the box, the bright colors and everything, and then they would tear the thing open because they wanted to touch, to feel, to play with the toy inside. It’s natural, we don’t want to just look at things when we’re kids, we don’t always think about preserving them since we’re all about the sensations that bring us the most joy, so touching is something that we want and will seek to get no matter how it might degrade something. You’ve seen kids reach out for things when they’re shown to them, no matter that it’s not theirs, right?
Max didn’t do that.
He definitely admired the box, the wrapping, and the toy inside. But he didn’t open it. Even at the age of four, when most kids his age had their toys out of the box before they even knew what it really was. Max kept his in there, which confused the hell out of his parents, and his family, and frustrated his friends to no end. But he did this and he didn’t change his mind, he didn’t waver once, since he told everyone that he didn’t want to ruin it. Max had an older brother that decided to ruin it for him a couple of times, at least until their parents reprimanded the brother following the act. Max didn’t throw a fit. He didn’t cry and carry on or hold his breath. He simply looked saddened that the toy had been ripped from its box.
I never did fully understand that part of him, and I still don’t to this day. But I guess that’s kind of a moot point since Max is here, but he’s not. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it? Don’t worry, it might not by the end of the story either, but I’ll do my best.
(to be continued)