Kids are believers.
They believe in magic. Santa. The Tooth Fairy. The Easter Bunny.
Their minds are open; they don’t need to rationalize nor do they necessarily seek an explanation. They just believe.
Well, most of the time.
Little Man is six. I know he is my big kid; but really at six, they are still little. They should still believe in magic, fairies and Santa, right?
Well, we went for a hike today on a trail near our house. On this trail, some believers, or kid friendly people, have started making small little fairy houses in the trees. It is really quite adorable (although, I know there are some people out there would be up in arms over the environment–just let it go for now).
My kids love it. Cricket especially. At four, she is totally into Tinker Bell and just the thought of real fairies living in the woods by her house is almost too much to handle!
Here is some of what we saw:
Along the way and totally out of the blue, Little Man flatly states “Cricket, fairies aren’t real.”
Cricket responds with “Yes, they are! They must be real. They make the seasons!” (you will follow her reference if you have seen a Tinker Bell movie.
Little Man replies, “No they aren’t. The tooth fairy is just your parents leaving you money so they can keep your gross, rotten teeth. Eww.”
Cricket looks up at me with her big blue eyes. Could this be true? Could my dreams be crushed right now??? Mom, say it isn’t so.
I quickly stepped in to say, “I’ve never see the Tooth Fairy, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
This seemed to satisfy everyone. I was just hoping they were still believers.
Then later today, my faith in Little Man and his ability to believe was restored. I was talking to the kids about my dad. It’s his birthday tomorrow and he would have been 70 this year. If you want to read more about him, you can in my post Never Enough Time.
He was a wonderful man and I try to keep his memory alive by talking about him to my children. Not only is it therapeutic for me, it gives me a chance to share a little of him with my kids. He died before they were born, so my stories are the only things they know about my dad.
As I was telling them that it was his birthday and Little Man says, “but we can’t tell him happy birthday, right? Because he is dead, right?”
I told him that I like to think that we can, that he is watching over us and can hear us wish him happy birthday.
Little Man didn’t quite buy that but said, “what, like magic?”
“I guess it is a little like magic.”
He chewed that over a little bit and responded with “if your daddy can hear us and he watches over us then maybe he is like Santa. Maybe they know each other and your daddy is in the North Pole with Santa!”
Little Man was right. It was one way to believe and it was a little like magic.
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