I have a firmly decided half ass policy that prevents me from lying to my child about all mythical holiday specters. Let's face it, the idea of an all seeing fat man in a red fur suit breaking into my house to leave me my hearts desire is just creepy. I can't even contemplate the idea of an egg laying bunny meant to usher in both spring and the birth of a savior without getting twitchy.
So I don't lie about it. I don't want to suck the joy out of childhood either. When the first born was little we had an understanding regarding holiday figures. We agreed they weren't real but thought it would great fun to play like they were anyway. We left cookies for Santa and she'd ask me the next morning if the milk had gone warm. She called me one Easter, when her mom and I were practicing life as normal married women, to tell me the Easter Bunny had left tons of eggs. Then she whispered that she knew there was no bunny but that her aunt would give her more chocolate if she pretended. Really, what is more joyful than a seven year old who is willing to lie about the holidays to receive more treats?
Girl child and I have had several close run-ins with the holidays. The first born aligns so close to me that complex ideas like the true nature of Santa can be understood in a few word and without hurt feelings and disappointment. I did not luck out so well with my own genetic offspring. Girl child makes me say it, clearly and painfully and her little face just falls. "There is no Santa. Mommy and Daddy buy the gifts and eat the cookies." Then, depending on her mood she either ignores what I've said and insists she should wait up to see for herself, or she declares that she isn't putting cookies out since mom and dad already know where to find them.
Which brings me to tonight. To a figure nearer and dearer to her heart I think than any other. To the tooth fairy.
She lost her fourth tooth yesterday. She is not quite six. She cut teeth early, which was very loverly since she was nursing at the time. With the second tooth she casually mentioned during the day that she wanted to put it under her pillow. By night she had forgotten. Last night she was just to tired to even think of it. Tonight, after the whole bedtime routine, she came out, all sly grins and nerves. She wanted to try to leave her tooth for the tooth fairy. She asked if she was real. She lives and breathes fairies. I did not want to have this conversation. Then again, I never really do.
I asked her what she thought. She said she didn't know. She looked at me, all soft eyes and hope. I sucked down my self loathing and asked her if she wanted a sweet and fun story or if she wanted the truth. She didn't disappoint. The truth. So I told her. She looked so sad. I pulled her into my lap and asked if she was ok. She nodded. I told her I was sorry, but that I wanted her to know I would always tell her the truth. I told her we could pretend, that pretending was fun. I asked her if she wanted the sweet story. She nodded again.
I told her that if she took good care of her teeth and one fell out clean and cavity free that she could hide it under her pillow for the tooth fairy. That the tooth fairy would leave her a treat as a way to thank her for taking such good care of her teeth. That the tooth would go back to tooth fairy land with the fairy. She smiled as I spoke and she told me that the tooth fairy made houses out of baby teeth. We snuggled for a few minutes and then I asked if she needed anything. She grinned and ducked her head into my chest.
"Will you pretend with me?" Ah, melt. So the tooth is in a little pillow, waiting for me to trade it for a gift. She asked what I was going to leave. I told her she would have to wait until morning to see. In part because I don't know what I'm going to leave yet, but also because it's a way to put back some of the thrill and mystery my honesty has taken out.
Maybe she and I can work this out.
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