Updated: Jan. 22, 2021
Originally Published: April 15, 2016
I went upstairs to tuck in my daughter for the night, only to find her in tears.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned. Did she hurt herself? Was she watching one of those heart-wrenching videos about mistreated animals again?
“I saw you,” she sniffled, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. “I saw you setting out the Easter Bunny stuff.” Her lip quivered, and a large tear rolled down her cheek.
My heart sank. I thought I had waited long enough. It was already 10 p.m., and though I knew my daughter was still awake—being a bit of a night owl—she usually stayed in her room. Not this time, though. Her curiosity got the best of her, possibly piqued by the rustling of bags or the sound of my footsteps as I arranged the goodies. But it didn’t matter; she had seen me.
At 9 years old, I recognized she was on the brink of leaving childhood behind and stepping into the tween years. Many kids her age had stopped believing. The whispers about Santa Claus had been circulating since second grade, yet Lily still clung to that belief—or perhaps she wanted to hold onto it. Maybe she was aware of the delicate balance between being a little kid and a tween herself.
I stood there frozen, caught in a moment of indecision. Should I reveal the truth, or let the magic linger a bit longer?
“The Easter Bunny can’t be everywhere at once,” I found myself saying. The magic stayed, and I wasn’t ready to let go just yet. From the way she looked at me, it seemed she wasn’t ready either. “So sometimes parents lend a hand.”
I held my breath, waiting for her to accuse me of lying. If she did, I’d have no choice but to come clean.
“That’s why I see the same things in my basket at Target,” Lily said, a hint of understanding brightening her tear-filled eyes.
“Yes,” I replied, relieved. “That’s why.” I sat beside her as she snuggled into my lap, resting her head against my shoulder. Will she always come to me like this when she’s upset? I find myself wondering that now, cherishing each moment in case it’s our last.
Some people think I should have told her the truth. When I discussed this with friends, a few said, “My kids stopped believing in the Easter Bunny at 6. You might as well let her know.” Maybe that’s true. But I want to hold onto the magic a little longer because I know what’s coming: boy troubles, friendship dilemmas, and questions about which lipstick to wear.
Yes. There is still time for the magic.
I’m grateful Lily still believes that an umbrella could one day let her fly like Mary Poppins.
I smile knowing she still thinks she can dress up as a character from a film.
And I love that she believes her stuffed animals have feelings and enjoy the same food we do.
One day, she’ll learn the truth about the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus. One day, her costumes and toys might be stored away in a box.
But that day isn’t today.
And for now, I’m thankful for that.
This article was originally published on April 15, 2016.
If you’re interested in more tips and stories like this, check out our other blogs, such as one on home insemination at this link, or learn about the excellent resources available on pregnancy at March of Dimes. For those looking for guidance on home insemination kits, Make a Mom is a great authority on the topic.
In summary, the magic of childhood is fleeting, and while the realities of growing up are inevitable, there’s still time to nurture those enchanting moments with our kids.