I have to post a funny here. Last night I read my daughter Charles De Lint's poem called "The Boys of Goose Hill" to my daughter. There is a section in this poem where it says "if there's knots in your hair" meaning that the Boys of Goose Hill have visited you in the night.
Well, this morning she woke up with knots in her hair. Now my darling child is very literal and she asked me "Mother do you think the Boys of Goose Hill came to visit me last night and knotted up my hair?" I smiled. Because this tells me that she was paying attention. I of course, told her well, you just never know do you Meg's?
There is a certain magic in being a child, and she has started asking the hard questions now. Like are you the tooth fairy? I reply, "Do you think I"m the tooth Fairy?" this confuses her because I won't answer her question. So I explained to her that as long as she believed in the faires they would always visit her, but the moment that she stopped believing in them, then some of the magic of childhood is lost.
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Reason #376 why I'm glad I don't have kids: difficult questions.
Heh. I'll be Aunt Molly until the end of time, so long as I don't have to answer those toughies. I'd rather stand in front of the firing squad than have to look into MY CHILD'S eyes and tell him that yes, I am the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and Santa Claus; no, no pot of gold rests at the end of the rainbow because it doesn't really touch the Earth; the sky is blue because of nitrogen in the atmosphere and not because God just likes that color; and then try to explain that, though the aforementioned mythical figures AREN'T real, God really is. *shakes head*
Chicken? Why yes, yes I am. *grin*
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