Four-year-old Mia was absolutely enchanted by the adventures of Curious Charlie. From his delightful books to his animated series, and even his plush toy version, Charlie was her favorite. When her mom and grandma announced a trip to New York City, Mia was convinced she would meet him there. After all, didn’t Charlie live in the big city? Concerned about her potential disappointment, her family thoughtfully considered how to address the situation. Ultimately, they told her that many people would be away on vacation for the long holiday weekend, and Charlie might be one of them. But Mia remained hopeful and excited about the possibility of meeting her beloved monkey.
They decided to write a letter to Charlie: “I’m going to be in your city. Can I see you?” Together, they addressed the envelope: Curious Charlie, c/o The Man in the Yellow Hat, Central Park West, NY, New York. Mia thought this was a brilliant idea.
Once they checked into their hotel, Mia eagerly waited by the window. The following morning, a small gift bag appeared outside their door, accompanied by a card. Charlie had indeed gone out of town but had left some gifts for Mia to enjoy during her stay.
“Charlie is so kind,” Mia exclaimed as she brought the bag into the room, prompting a sigh of relief from her mom and grandma. With their worries eased, they set off to explore the city. They took a horse-drawn carriage ride through Central Park and eagerly awaited their turn for a tour bus to see Manhattan.
Mia was bubbling with excitement, knowing that Charlie had ridden a tour bus too. She secured a seat right next to the driver, scanning the streets for any sign of her favorite monkey. Her mom and grandma exchanged nervous glances, and before they knew it, Mia leaned towards the driver and asked, “Do you know Curious Charlie?”
The Power of Imagination
Children thrive on belief. When adults don’t fill the storytelling gap, kids’ vivid imaginations step in. My five-year-old son has a whirlwind of stories unfolding in his room, each stuffed animal possessing a unique character and storyline. If no toys are available, his fingers become a lively family of imaginary creatures.
How far will we, as adults, go to keep the magic alive? I recently faced a dilemma when a fairy house my parents helped the kids build was accidentally destroyed. Should I tell my children that it was crushed by a workman’s heavy foot or that the fairies relocated to a new neighborhood? Maintaining the magic takes effort, but at what point do we do it for them and when do we do it for ourselves?
Curious Charlie may be a fictional character, but Mia’s mom and grandma made a choice to create an experience full of wonder. They wanted to make memories together. In my own teaching experience, a boy once told me outright, “You know, Santa Claus isn’t real.” I was taken aback, realizing the weight of my role in fostering belief. I mumbled something to dismiss his claim, but it weighed on me throughout the day.
The Responsibility of Wonder
How much responsibility do we bear in these situations? Some parents go to great lengths, creating elaborate displays of magic, while others, like a former colleague, stoked excitement about leprechauns to the point of frenzy. I even heard of a mother who invented “Hanukkah Charlie” to bring joy to her child during the holiday season.
As we strive to provide wonder for our children, we can’t ignore the fact that we often seek that same enchantment ourselves. When a child discovers the truth behind a beloved character, they may feel upset, but sometimes that transition can be beautiful. When kids grow up and connect with adults who understand, it creates a unique bond where both sides play along, maintaining the magic of childhood.
Finding Enchantment as Adults
But what about adults? Who looks out for our imaginative needs? We have to create our own escapes through games, novels, movies, or live performances. While buying tickets and finding a babysitter may not be as whimsical as the adventures of imaginary creatures, the goal remains the same: to find joy and relief from the mundanity of everyday life. It’s essential to have things to look forward to, as Picasso said, “to wash away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”
I became more aware of how critical enchantment is when I realized its absence. One day, while biking home, I stopped next to a duck boat filled with tourists. A chef from a nearby Italian restaurant, enjoying his break, performed an impromptu dance for the delighted onlookers. A couple of weeks later, I witnessed the same routine, and the magic vanished; I had seen behind the curtain.
This disruption is common—whether it’s the cancellation of a favorite show or a spoiled plot twist. We crave the thrill of wonder, and when that is taken away, it feels like a loss. As author Vladimir Nabokov noted, artists are enchanters, providing us with the thrill of imagination and escape.
Upholding the Magic
In this journey of nurturing belief and wonder, I understand my obligation to uphold the magic. Moments of enchantment are precious. We never know when something might brush the dust from our shoulders. So, why not create a little magic? Deceive someone about a surprise party or share that treasured book with a friend. Grant an illusion, just like when a friendly stranger leans down to reassure a child, saying, “Of course I know Charlie. He was just on my bus yesterday. I’ll tell him you said hello.”
Magic
Mia’s seen a leprechaun,
Jake touched a troll,
Lily danced with witches once,
Max found some goblins’ gold.
Oscar heard a mermaid sing,
Sophie spied an elf,
But all the magic that I know,
I’ve had to make myself.
– Adapted from Shel Silverstein
This article reminds us of the importance of keeping the magical spirit alive, both in our children and ourselves.