Reflections on Magical Thinking

I fear we are passing a milestone that I'm realizing I'm not quite prepared for.  With the magical glow of Christmas fading away in the rear view mirror, and the light and length of days growing steadily longer in the road ahead, I've been pondering the fairy world.  You know, Santa and the like.  My oldest, at age 7, seems like he has rocketed (and not slowly transitioned as I'd envisioned) from magical thinking to concrete thinking.   He spent the weeks before Christmas asking questions about the existence of Santa Claus, pondering the plausibility, examining the details and questioning the logistics.  I suppose this is the age when this sort of thing starts--it is after all the transition from magical to concrete operational, or some such thing that Piaget and Steiner and parents any observer of children note.  I'm just surprised at how quickly it came.  I think that the older kids on the playground plant the seed of doubt, and as concrete logical thinking grows so does the questioning. 

As the fall semester ended and we entered the cocoon of winter break some weeks back, I found that as the days since the playground accumulated and Christmas grew closer, C's belief in the magic of Santa began to rise again.  By the time the holiday arrived he was in the throes of flying reindeer and magical sleighs.  He declared several times that he was a believer.  He claimed, a la Polar Express, to hear the sleigh bells.  Assessing his booty, he was thankful, several times, to Santa and all that he delivered.  He even wanted to write him a letter of thanks (see my heart glow with that gesture).  It was amazing how Santa knew exactly what to bring, he reflected.  We played with the toys in our insulated home.  2010 came.  School restarted this week.  Then the test happened.

Last night, C mentioned that he had a newly loose tooth--his eighth, so he's very familiar with the coinage accompanying lost baby teeth.  He was wiggling away and it seemed quite loose for a new one--but those teeth can linger for months...and I heard nothing more.  This morning, he presented to the kitchen for breakfast, left lateral incisor tooth in hand.  He told me that he'd pulled it out last night and hadn't told anyone, left it under his pillow...and was disappointed to confirm that the tooth fairy does not exist this morning.  I was stunned.  Speechless.  I looked surprised, saying, "Oh, really?"  Then as is my usual fashion with difficult questions, I figured I'd turn them back on him.  What did he think happened?  I didn't ask too much, as I was trying frantically in my head to come up with a decent explanation...and tried to just let the silence seem natural.   In the end, nothing emerged in the moment so I dropped it.  I thought about it all day, and wondered if I could leave some quarters under his pillow while he was at school...but he took the tooth with him so that wouldn't work.  The teaching assistant in his class even called me at home to alert me of his test, bless her heart, but alas, I'd already found out.  At the end of the school day, he showed me the tooth in my rear view mirror as I drove out of the parking lot, replacing it in it's former socket and smiling.  He wondered if the tooth were still alive, if it would then be any value to the TF.  Then he stated matter of factly that he had in fact been testing the existence of the fairy and she failed.  He didn't say anything further.  He didn't ask me if it was me all this time, which I thought would be the ergo question.  I guess he's not quite ready to give it up completely...?  Though I did ask if he was going to put it under his pillow tonight and he said no, he was going to put it in a picture.  I suggested she might come steal it.  He said he didn't know.

Between this and Santa, I've wondered at the wonder of magical fairies.  Why are they so great?  Why do we propagate these lies?  I do believe that is how the young child's mind works.  Anyone who's spent any time with a 4 year old will be amazed at the imagination and magic that child will create, linking unlikely worlds, explaining how planes fly, how telephones work, watch them occupy mythical characters, performing impossible feats.  And as adults, Santa allows us to indulge in that magic, to honor the mysteries of life and relish the innocence, both of our child's and our own in remembrance.  I have been amazed at my own reaction to this (essentially) loss of innocence...one step closer to grown up, letting go, moving away from mom, not needing me...or perhaps I'm making too much of it. 

I also think that fairies and Santa give a needed degree of separation and consequence from a parent.  The day in, day out correcting/feedback/instruction that children receive from their parents can get old for both parties.  Creating that third party that is privy to all, sees all, knows all, but detaches the parent and all of that baggage.  As parents well know, children save their best tricks and worst behavior for home, where it's (usually, hopefully) safe to try out.  They can let their guard down, they don't have to keep it all together, and they can be a little terror to mom and she will love you in the end no matter what (usually, hopefully).  So behavior watched by a St. Nicolaus, Santa Claus, Kris Kringle who will know and reward or punish accordingly truly can bring out the best in a child.  Though I can't help but feel guilty about it, I pulled out a few Santa threats this year.  I even dialed him on my cell phone at one point.  But what a powerful motivator.  And it seems in my quick online research on Santa, that he has existed/been borrowed and evolved since the time of the Greeks.  This is not a new phenomenon.

I recall the exact moment in my childhood that I found out about Santa.  I had clung on until I was 8 in spite of three older siblings.  I believed, because everyone told me it was so.  Then I asked my mom one day, near Christmas, knowing she would tell me the truth but not expecting the answer I received.  We were in the laundry room with the ugliest orange-brown utility carpet you can conjure up in your mind as a background print on the moment.  I felt duped.  I felt so silly and small and that everyone had lied to me and I was mad that I was the last one in on the big joke on me.  I think it had something to do with being the youngest and needing to have everything perfect all of the time.  This was not in the plan.

I recovered.  And from what I hear, my reaction is unusual.  Kids seem to assimilate the truth about Santa/Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy/Halloween Fairy magic slowly, and appreciate that the world was made softer and sweeter for them by those adults that love them.  In fact, I think that only now, as I perpetuate that lie that so upset my 8 year old self, do I realize how much love goes into being a magical fairy for your child.  And I realize the grief that goes with losing that soft, sweet, innocent outlook on the world that is being a young child.  There is nothing that quite compares to the joy and wonder on a child's face when a fairy-granted surprise greets them.  And tonight, as C goes to bed, I wonder what he will do with his tooth.  Which direction will he choose to go?  He's been playing with it all night and has actually lost it a couple of times, prompting me to suggest TF came and got it.  But he's recovered it, it's sharp and half-hollowed out edges irritating his palm.  I wonder.  I know it's ineveitable.  As I look at his big round face in the rear view mirror, now with big front teeth floating in space by now two empty sockets, I see that I am looking at my little boy, seeing the magic (though definitely NOT the creativity) fade into the background of the road we've already traveled.