As I made my way upstairs to say goodnight to my daughter, I noticed she was in tears. Alarmed, I asked, “What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself, or are you upset about those heartbreaking animal rescue videos again?”
“I saw you,” she sobbed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I saw you setting out the Easter Bunny stuff.” Her lip quivered, and a big tear rolled down her cheek.
My heart sank. I thought I had waited long enough—after all, it was 10 p.m. Yes, I knew she was still awake, as she often is, but typically, she stays in her room. Not this time; her curiosity had gotten the best of her. Perhaps she heard the crinkling of the bags or my footsteps as I arranged the goodies. But what mattered was that she had caught me in the act.
At 9 years old, I knew she was on the brink of leaving childhood behind. Many kids her age have already stopped believing. Rumors about Santa Claus had circulated since second grade, yet Mia still chose to believe—or at least wanted to. Perhaps she sensed the balance between being a little kid and a tween was shifting.
I hesitated, frozen in her room. Should I reveal the truth or let the magic linger a little longer?
“The Easter Bunny can’t be everywhere at once,” I found myself saying, determined to keep the magic alive. I wasn’t ready to let go, and judging by the look on Mia’s face, she wasn’t either. “So sometimes parents lend a hand.”
I held my breath, wondering if she would confront me. If she did, I’d have to come clean.
“So that’s why I see the same things in our shopping cart at Target?” Mia asked, a glimmer of understanding lighting up her eyes.
“Yes,” I replied, feeling a wave of relief. “That’s why.” I sat beside her, and she climbed into my lap, resting her head on my shoulder. I often ponder whether she’ll always seek comfort there. I cherish every moment, unsure of when it might be the last.
Some friends advised me to tell her the truth; they remarked, “My kids figured out the Easter Bunny was fake at 6. You should just let her know.” Maybe they were right, but I wanted to cling to the magic a little longer, knowing what was to come—boy troubles, friendship dilemmas, and the pressure of choosing between pink or red lipstick.
Yes, there is still time for magic. I’m grateful Mia still believes her umbrella could one day let her fly like Mary Poppins. I smile because she thinks dressing up can transform her into a character from her favorite movie. And it brings me joy that she believes her stuffed animals have feelings and share our love for food.
One day, she’ll learn the truth about the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus, and her costumes and toys may end up in a box in the closet. But that day is not today, and I’m thankful for that.
For more insights on parenting and family life, check out this post on Magic in Parenting. If you’re also interested in home insemination, Make a Mom provides excellent resources. Additionally, for comprehensive information on pregnancy options, WebMD is a fantastic resource.
In summary, cherishing the magic of childhood is a precious part of parenting. Each moment spent nurturing a child’s belief in the impossible can create lasting memories.