Radio television mirror (July-Dec 1951)

ni : could do the pajamas all by myself." "And your mother wouldn't allow you to?" Ted clucked his tongue in mock deprecation. "Now that she's seen how well you do she'll naturally not interfere again. Isn't that so, my dear?" From almost identical eyes, Ted and his son looked at her, and Meta felt a chill contract her shoulders. Innocent triumph shone from Chuckle's blue eyes, but Ted's were not innocent. After kissing Chuckie and tucking him in, they went out, Ted pausing to click off the light just outside his door. Meta bit her lip. It was an old battle, this of the night light. She didn't feel like fighting it again tonight, with Chuckie already upset. If he asked for it . . . she listened, but from the darkened bedroom came no sound. With his father there, Chuckie was more afraid to reveal his fear of the dark than to suffer, as Meta knew he did, from the fear itself. She had tried so often to tell Ted that nowadays people didn't make children go through hell if they were scared of the dark. You gave them a dim light; then, when they were a little older and able to be reasoned with, you explained, you convinced them there was nothing to be afraid of. And because they had learned by that time to trust and believe in you, they believed you about the dark. It worked. In book after book on child psychology Meta had circled those paragraphs, but Ted always put them aside with the curt verdict. "Coddling." Meta went to bed, to lie awake and wonder as the night lengthened how long it had taken Chuckie to fall asleep. It wasn't only the dark he feared. There were so many things . . . sometimes she wondered how it could be that Ted, considered such an intelligent man, couldn't see how ludicrous he was with his deliberate insistence that Chuckie not be afraid of anything. It's unmanly to show fear, he would say; and Chuckie, more afraid of his father's criticism than of anything, would stiffen and thin his little mouth and try to look as much like Ted as 'possible. Meta sat up suddenly in the darkness. Was that a noise from Chuckie's room? Fumbling for robe and slippers, she went silently down the corridor to his door. He was flinging about in bed, tossing the blankets frantically, his forehead damp when she touched it. Words formed from his murmurings . . . "But paints are nice. Dad, I want . . ." and then, "I'm lost. I'm lost, you'll have to come—" He gave a final toss that would have landed him on he floor if she hadn't held him. "Mother!" he cried, as though she ightened him more than his nightmare. "I'm sorry, darling, I didn't mean to wake you. You were having a bad dream, I think." "I'm all right. It was ... I think it was ... I don't want that paintbox, iras . . Mother." It took Meta a moment to understand. "The paints we bought today? Well — all right, dear, we'll put them aside till you do want them." He's still half asleep, she thought. Best let him get right back without really waking him. But Chuckie said earnestly, "I don't want them at all. Dad says it's sissy." Meta stiffened. For months she had watched Chuckie laboring with his babyish nursery crayons, trying to get the ef fects he wanted. He had asked for paints every time they went into town. And now, Ted said they were sissy, so Chuckie couldn't afford to want them any longer. But aloud she only said quietly, "We'll talk about it when we're both wide-awake, darling. Would you like anything now — some milk or water?" Chuckie shook his head. "All right then, darling, I'm going now." Obediently he slid back and let Meta smooth the covers, and submitted to a kiss. At the door she hesitated. "Would you like me to leave the light on now?" Chuckie jerked upright. "Oh, no! I'm big enough to do without it!" There was an actual touch of panic as he thought she might tempt him to go against his Dad's orders. Meta had an insane desire to scream at him as though he were an adult, "Chuckie, relax! Never mind Dad! If you want the light you may have it, darling, don't fight yourself so hard because of what Dad says!" But all she said was "Good night, then." She slept very little. But she used the long night to make up her mind to something she'd been evading; one of the few things she'd been afraid to do because of Ted's violent objection to it. There were few things he held in greater contempt than psychiatrists, and his anger when she first mentioned taking Chuckie to one was really frightening. The suggestion that any outsider could presume to advise him about his own son made him so furious that — because he rarely permitted himself to lose his temper — he became really threatening. Meta had hesitated, going only so far as to get from Ross the name of a child psychiatrist he respected. But she couldn't let any more time go by. Chuckie worried her; he wasn't doing well at all. Too many nightmares, she thought, planning out what to tell the doctor. Too evasive about other children, too unable to give and take. This disturbing fear of any kind of physical activity. And now Ted's insistence that he take boxing lessons . . . could that do him any good? The fear of water, the other fears Ted wouldn't recognize, and Chuckie wouldn't admit ... It was enough, surely, to disturb any mother? Dr. hewitt didn't seem to think she was. Ross, who made the appointment for her the next day, told her how lucky she was to get it on such short notice, but when Meta left Chuckie in the outer office and went in for her own brief interview, she realized that Ross must have given his friend a pretty thorough briefing on the White family, pointing up her anxiety and Ted's opposition. "I must say at once, Mrs. White, that in cases like this — where one parent is in opposition or at least is not cooperative — I usually withdraw. There's not much I can do for a child whose home environment isn't geared to operate in harmony with whatever I feel I've learned about the child. Dr. Boling explained that Mr. White isn t — Meta's hands clenched on her purse. "I'm prepared to do anything," she interrupted, "even anything drastic, if you feel as I do about Chuckie — that he isn't getting the right things from us at home. Please don't worry about my husband." That night Meta prepared for Ted's homecoming as painstakingly as though she were a bride still in love with her w1 1 [mil In the ICC BOX by the *w% ^£m | A5£pkg. Makes 2 Quarts Of 'Refreshing Beveraqe I KEEP a refreshing pitcher of KoolAid in your ice box. It saves money and ice box space. Saves work . . . always chilled, full blended, ready for quick serving. Handy for the children. Six delicious flavors. A thrifty standby! AT GROCERS I -KOOL-AID"® PERKINS PRODUCTS CO.© 1951 P.P. CO. &&^&ujM CHRISTMAS CARDS Dollars roll in fast when you show these Christmas Card values! 50 EXCLUSIVE folders $1. Over 100 other big sellers bring year 'round earnings. Sell 100 21-card $1 Assortments — make up to $50. Also getGift premiums, cash bonus. Send for FREE Samples. Assortments on approval. Write NOW 1 WETMORE& SUGDEN.Inc, Dept. 9-P 749 MONROE AVE., ROCHESTER 2, N. V. .S3 6i«* We* r\o**e. ISfc* rt*°°, v/v \W n M* m»L ***** *M* v&S. oo* Specially Made for Blondes To help keep blonde hair from growing dark or faded use BLONDEX, the home shampoo that contains ANDIUM for extra lightness and SHINE. Instantly removes dingy film that makes hair dark. Washes hair shades lighter, gives it lovely lustre. Takes only 11 minutes at home. Safe for children. Get BLONDEX today at 10c, drug & dept. stores everywhere. 97