Thanks to a preschool teacher, my daughter believes in leprechauns. More specifically, that if she makes a trap for them, they will visit, make a little mess, and leave gold chocolate coins. I have learned that Wallgreen’s regularly stocks said coins. The first year, I went to four different stores before I found them, only to have the dogs eat them. So I went out again.
Her first grade teacher induced mass hysteria with a little plastic guy called Mr. McGillicutty. He appeared a few weeks before St. Patrick’s day. Students would find him in a new place each morning, like an Irish Elf-On-The-Shelf. Three of four kids even believed that they saw Mr McGillicutty move.
Soon, I will head home to set the scene. I will disturb her trap and spread the coins around it. Then, I will find the green food coloring and squeeze some into one of the toilets. I won’t do the milk this year because I just opened a new gallon. Then, I will locate the hand print stamp and the green stamp pad I use once a year and stamp parts of the trap and the toilet paper. Finally, I will pick Lily up from school and pretend to be surprised when we get home. We’re not even Irish.
I’m just wondering why? She doesn’t have an older sibling to spoil anything for her and she is imaginative, so she still believes in Santa, The Easter Bunny, and The Tooth Fairy. Is the world better when we believe in the possibility of magic? I think a kid her age, ten, has to sort of choose to believe. But what about me? Do I prefer a world where kids can believe the fantastic? Is that why I work so hard to keep it going? Do I fight to preserve her innocence because I know that it is fleeting and precious? But is she less prepared for the world because of it?
Fourth grade – I think the body talk is coming. Next year, the sex talk. There isn’t much time left. So I guess there’s no harm in playing the game a little longer. And we both enjoy it.