More old Blog Material

Friday, November 25, 2005
Goldfish, Fairy Dust, Life-sized Bunnies and the Jolly Old Elf - Are they Real?

“Mommy… how did you train the goldfish to float on it’s back with his eye’s closed in the toilet and how did he get there??”

“Mommy… what does the tooth fairy really do with all of the teeth she collects?”

“Mommy…. I don’t want the Easter Bunny to come into my room so close my door tight!”

“Mommy…. Is there really a Santa Clause?”

Hum…. The never ending parental questions, and the dilemma on exactly how far one can stretch the truth before being accused of lying to our Children. The fish is dead… yes it is a harsh reality and certainly not one I expected to have such an overwhelming impact on a 4 year old. You see the fish died, I raced to flush it down the toilet and broke the news to my daughter after daycare that day. This time – there had been no time to replace the 3rd Frances. Up until this point the timing had always allowed me to get a replacement fish before my daughter ever discovered the unfortunate death.

The conversation went something like this…. “I have some sad news…” To which her big brown eyes looked up at me and said with some trepidation “What?”, “Frances wasn’t doing very well and sadly went to fishy heaven”. Stupidly I never fully anticipated the dramatic reaction that then ensued. The tears, the loss of the best friend, the I am so sad, this is the saddest thing that has happened to me in my whole life and the crying went on for over 40 minutes. At which point I suggested a call to Grandma, as it was Grandma and Grandpa that had bought her the fish for her 3rd birthday. Grandma came up with the solution that perhaps we could go and pick out a new fish.

While the crying continued on the phone I had this sudden feeling that I better go check to make sure the fish had actually flushed in the morning. Much to my chagrin – the stupid thing was still floating in the bowl!!!!! Thank god my daughter hadn’t had her after school pee yet – or I would be considered forever a murderer!! I flushed…. Waited, and watched the fish do the upside down backstroke to the nearest sewer pipe! Whew!

We went off and bought a new fish – but it was never the same and the death of “Lettuce” was no where near as tragic.

Tooth Fairies – now in my daughter’s eyes the tooth fairy is cool, she leaves little notes and fairy dust and money…. And that’s alright. But what happens to the teeth? Well, perhaps they are strung into beautiful little necklaces…. “ewwwwwwwww Mom!!!! That’s soooo gross!”, uh ok… then maybe they are delivered to other children who don’t have any teeth? (that response didn’t get a much better reaction). In any case she doesn’t really care so much, as long as when the tooth falls out there is some money…. Of her very own!

The Easter Bunny is an altogether different story…. My daughter recalls an Easter when she was about 2, when the Easter Bunny left an awful mess of white paw prints all over our hardwood floor. She promptly got down on all fours, very indignant, and licked her wee little thumb and started to erase all of those tiny little prints, all the while scowling at the mess.

A few years later someone told my daughter that the Easter bunny is sooo big that his ears touch the ceiling. Well my daughter isn’t overly fond of the idea of a larger than life Rabbit that leaves a mess in it’s wake, tromping through our house, no matter what kind of eggs he may be leaving. I have very specific instructions to shut the door “tight – tight”. She in no way relishes the idea of opening her eyes to see an enormous bunny peering back at her, she doesn’t care what he has in his basket!!

Which brings me to my final point… one that is close to my heart. Jolly old Santa Claus… and Is he real?

As a child growing up, with three brothers, all of us at various ages and different stages of believing, my parent’s standard response to “Is Santa real” was this.

“As long as you believe in him… he is real. When you stop believing in him, he stops coming”

As a child, I was always afraid to not believe for fear of missing out. Of course eventually I figured it all out ... and by then it wasn’t earth shattering – I mean there were still presents after all… it’s just that they came from Mom and Dad.

When my daughter and I first moved to an apartment in a new town, we had only been there for a few weeks and had erected a very sad little four foot Christmas tree that had the top tied on with a piece of green coloured ribbon. The decorations were nice enough, however money was tight that year, and her brave front about how would Santa visit when we didn’t have a chimney, was a very real concern for her. Quite frankly, I had so much to worry about that I never really gave her any concrete answers.

One night while I was preparing our little dinner the two of us heard bells… jingle bells to be clear. Their gentle clear tinkle in the air was not to be mistaken. My darling daughter came to a skidding halt in the kitchen with her little hand cocked to her ear and said with eyes wide “Mom…. Can you hear that!” A moment later there was a knock on the door. I had no idea who it could be – I didn’t know anyone in our building other than our landlady – and we hadn’t been making any noise.

I went to the door, and my daughter shoved her head under my arm to see who it could be. I opened the door. I could not believe my eyes…… there before me, in all his glory, was Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus. Their beautiful red suits, rosy cheeks, white hair, and twinkling eyes, I think I could even smell a hint of gingerbread. Was I finally losing my mind? Was insanity kicking in. My daughter took a cautious step backwards when the first question was addressed to her.

With a familiar chuckle, Santa bent down and said hello and addressed my daughter by name (I have to tell you this had me standing there with my mouth hanging open – never mind her). He said to her .. “I know you have been a good little girl and helper to your Mom. You just moved here and I thought you might be worried about whether I would find you this Christmas. I just wanted you to know that if you are good, I won’t forget to come on Christmas Eve”.

I have to say – just writing this brings back that evening with such clarity that my eyes mist over just thinking about it.

I KNEW it… I just knew Santa was real!!! She brought Santa in and showed him our pitiful little tree. She promised to be good and do as she was told, and as quick as they came they left us, with a crispness in the air and their bells jingling off into the distance. We closed the door and looked at each other speechless. (Who was that man?). Right away she wanted to call Grandma and Grandpa to tell them ... who was I to stop her – I wanted to tell someone myself. I called my Dad and relayed the story…. And he asked me “So… who was it”… “Come on Dad, it was SANTA!!!!!”

In the weeks leading up to Christmas that year – on a couple of occasions we heard Santa’s tell-tale bells in the hallway, and I never saw a little girl move so fast to jump into bed (irregardless of the time!) just to be on the safe side!

Something happened for me that Christmas, many of the realities of adulthood dissipated and I found myself with a tiny shred of hope. Hope for all things that as a child you believe in with your whole heart. There was an ability to believe in things we can’t always explain, the selfless kindness in the anonymous act of strangers, at a time when things seem bleak.

That Christmas Eve, my daughter and I stayed at my parent’s place, it just seemed fitting. To spend Christmas with my little girl, in the same room I slept in as a child on Christmas eve, to wake up in the morning with my parents and share our Christmas excitement with them.

So when my daughter asks me “Is Santa Real”,
the answer will be

“Yes Baby, If you believe in him He is!”

Mom