My nieces Bailee and Afton stayed the night at my house last weekend. Because I must maintain my place in their hearts as the favorite aunt [only kidding] I planned an entire evening of fairy fun.
wait! I mean, uh... I didn't plan anything.
The girls arrived and after naps and making forts and trampolines of the couch cushions I brought out PB&J's I had prepared. Lo and behold, someone had got to them first!
The famous Tinkerbell herself had left a pixie-sized note on each sandwich informing us that as she was passing by she had noticed her favorite lunch sitting there. She couldn't resist taking a tiny bite and wanted to thank us. There was even some colored pixie dust left behind, which seemed to make the sandwiches taste a little sweeter. Bailee said it looked liked sugar. [no pictures, but if you want to see, Tinkerbell also visited here.]
As we nibbled on our sandwiches, Bailee was hesitant. "Did you write it?" she demanded. I explained that there was no way I could write that small [like, say, a size 8 font].
But still, a minute later, "Are you positive you didn't write it?"
"Why would I take a bite out of other people's sandwiches?" I laughed in reply. For the next five minutes I continued to skirt my way around her questions.
She ate her sandwich quietly, but I began to notice a touch of wonder creep into her eyes.
When the sandwiches were finished the girls returned to their cushion castle. Soon after, I asked Bailee about the large white gift bag sitting next to the pantry in the kitchen.
"Bailee? Did you guys bring this?"
"What?"
"This bag."
She met me at the bag. "I don't think so." Then, as she noticed that it was full of several smaller gift bags, she added, "but we can call my mom to check!"
We began to look through the bag and, wouldn't you know, we found another tiny note! It informed us that the fairies were sorry they had eaten our snack and wanted to do something for us. Each hour, we could open one of the smaller bags for a *fairy* fun time!
Bailee was jumping up and down as she pulled out the biggest, brightest bag and looked inside. I helped, of course, and quickly found another mini-letter. This one told us that the fairies had left each of us a special flower wand. The flower we chose would be our "fairy name." Bailee wasted no time in selecting the pink rose, and her eyes widened as I informed her of her new name, Fairy Rose. The little note also instructed us to don our fairy regalia [fairy crowns and bracelets] and put on our own fairy performance. I pointed out how hard this would be with couch cushions strewn everywhere. You better believe Bailee helped clean that room up fast! The bag included ribbons to decorate our wands and as I made quick work of them, Bailee continued to exclaim,
Coincidentally, and very conveniently, I had just put some fairy music on my ipod. We turned it up and danced about the room, waving our new flower wands. Bailee performed several dramatic fairy death/sleeping scenes whenever the music was serious and slow. Afton's dance move of choice was climbing sideways into the armchair. And Janie laughed as we spun around and Bailee and Afton jumped up and down around us.
And so the evening continued. Before long Bailee stopped asking if the "fairies" were really me. The fairies left colored bubbles, "color wands" [crayons] and coloring books, colored cereal to make rainbow necklaces, balloons to chase as practice being as fast as a fairy, and fairy stories to read. Bailee was puzzled that the fairy books were all ones that Janie already had. I replied that the fairies must have found them all and put them in the bag for us. Bailee replied by asking me if I had seen any of the books around lately. When I announced that the fairies had even left a special dinner for a fairy picnic tea party, Bailee gasped and brought me the book we had just read about a fairy tea party.
"That is just like the fairies do!" she exclaimed.
As I whipped up the flower pizzas, fruit wands [kabobs] and fairy pudding topped with fairy dust [whipped yogurt with sprinkles], Bailee came into the kitchen and looked at the space where the sandwiches had been hours earlier.
"I just can't believe it." she mused. "They're really real." I smiled, silently congratulating myself on the magic I had created. Then she added, "My mom and dad don't think that fairies are real."
"They don't?" I answered, suddenly feeling a twinge of uneasiness. "Hmm." Had there been an *are fairies real? -No they are just make believe.-* discussion at home that I didn't know about? Oh well, I thought. I know they preach Santa and all his magic. Fairies aren't that far off, right?
So we're good, I told myself as I held up a bottle of pink smoothie drink to show the girls. "Look what the fairies brought!" Afton clapped and cheered for joy.
Bailee volunteered to say the blessing on the food. Her prayer began, "Heavenly Father are fairies real?" She went on and didn't even mention the food. I didn't mention it, either, because the sentiment was there, of course. And I was too busy wondering how Heavenly Father would answer her first question.
As we began to enjoy our feast, Bailee couldn't seem to stay sitting for more than a few bites.
"Bailee, aren't you going to eat your fairy dinner?" I asked. She replied that she was just looking for the fairies. "Well, if the fairies are here, they might see that you aren't eating the fairy food they brought," I replied simply.
Bailee sat down and ate everything on her plate. Everything.
Now I was the one with a touch of wonder in her eyes. Is this the kind of power that comes when you tell your kids that Santa is watching them?
Whoa.
That was awesome.
Somewhere inside me, something asked, should that be awesome?
YES! I answered. Because now she won't be hungry before bed. Yes, I think awesome just about sums it up.
Later that night, Bailee dictated "a little text" to her mom. Part of it read,
do you believe in fairies? Because if you don't, i do.
The next morning Bailee insisted we watch the Tinkerbell movie first thing. When it was over, she suddenly asked me,
"Aunt Meg, do you believe in fairies?"
I had no idea that our fairy fun would cause such internal conflict in my little niece. I quickly tried to consider the implications of divulging my true knowledge of fairies.
I suddenly remembered a story I read this past Christmastime about a child who had been informed and assured by an older sister that Santa wasn't real. In turmoil, this child hurried to Grandma's house, knowing that if anyone would tell the truth, it would be Grandma. Grandma replied that the claims made against Santa were ridiculous--a rumor that's been going around for years. Grandma and this child proceeded to a store. As Grandma handed over ten dollars, she sent this grandchild in with the task of buying something for someone who needed it. The child finally settled on a coat for a classmate in desperate need of one. They return home to wrap the gift and sign it, "From Santa Claus." The grandma announced that they were now and forever Santa's helpers. They secretly deliver the gift, and the thrill of giving anonymously in the spirit of Santa is never forgotten.
There is something undeniably captivating about magic to children, small and large [Hogwarts, anyone?] I can clearly remember as a fifth grader telling my sister that I was going to believe in Santa anyway. It was more fun that way [though when Christmas Eve night came, the idea of someone coming in the house and wandering around terrified me.] But I have come to see that even more captivating are the warm fuzzy feelings that come with an anonymous gift, when you discover that someone, somewhere is thinking of you.
And so, even though I may have ruined my chances to be crowned the favorite aunt [who am I kidding? I'm up against Kathie, who may very well be a real fairy herself!], I wholeheartedly admit that it was much more thrilling to bring magic and wonder and joy to a little girl's heart.
In the words of one of our *fairy songs*:
it's the same as having wings
and I declare,
Yes, Bailee, there is a Tinkerbell.
