The other day my son suddenly insisted that he needed to have a keychain. Specifically, he needed to hang a keychain on the bookbag he carries to school.
"Well," I suggested, "keychains can be a cool thing to collect when you travel. Maybe we should start getting a keychain at the places we visit."
No, he insisted, that wasn't soon enough. He needed a keychain and he needed it now.
Still unsure of why in the world this was a pressing need but willing to go along for the ride, I told him, "OK, I think we have some extras at home. I'm sure we can find you one."
Nuh-uh, nothing doing. We needed to get the $2 a family member had recently given him and head to his school's bookstore -- and pronto.
Actually, let me be clear (and fair). He asked about this for like three days in a row and was very patient with his pokey, difficult-to-wake mom when, for three days in a row, we didn't make it to school in time to catch the bookstore, which closes about 5 minutes before the "late bell," open.
But finally we made it one day last week, and he proudly presented his $2 (and 12 cents of mine for tax) for a squishy, rubber pig keychain. And then before we could even head into his class, we had to get that keychain out of its plastic baggie and onto the handle of his bookbag.
I was veritably rolling my eyes at the import my son was assigning to this bizarre little thing. But then I walked into his classroom, and the veil was lifted.
As soon as we cleared the doorway, one of his classmates came running up and said, "Hey, you got a keychain! Chip," he called to another boy across the room, "he got his first keychain!" This was clearly a moment of importance and delight, one that merited the excited attention of nearly everyone within those four walls who carried a "Y" chromosome.
My son's friend then proceeded to grab his bag to show my son that, among the huge wad of 30 or so keychains dangling from his bookbag strap, he also had the same pig one. I then started noticing that the bags of several students, seemingly just the boys, had collections of keychains, of various quantity, hanging from them. Apparently keychains are the new Silly Bandz (or at least the ones not disallowed by school rules).
Though I've always tried to be one who turned a cynical eye on fads, I couldn't help but feeling a twinge of guilt when I learned why my son had been asking for keychains. Of course he wanted to be cool with his buddies at school. Of course he wanted to have what the other kids have. I'm quite frankly impressed that his requests had been pretty low-key and mild, given the obvious importance his friends placed on the keychain as soon as we walked in.
With a little more distance from the moment, though, my thoughts on this little encounter have changed a bit. First, I'm glad that, despite what is surely some miniature version of peer pressure, my son seems completely content to have only the one keychain, rather than 20-pound collection of his classmate. That perhaps bodes well for the future when the pressure to have far more expensive accoutrements will surely creep into his life.
Second, I'm giving some thought to the importance of those accoutrements. Being acceptable to your peers is, I know, a huge part of school years. I remember not being able to afford the cool jeans my classmates were wearing in middle and high school and how ostracized I felt by that. On the other hand, not having everything, like expensive jeans, handed to me on a silver platter surely taught me some important life lessons.
I get that these are topics far too weighty to have much bearing on kindergarten, but they're out there and they're coming -- and sooner than I'll want, I know. Meanwhile, if you see any cool keychains, I've got a kid who'd probably love to hang them on his bookbag.
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