As we prepared to head to the Easter egg hunt at our daughter’s preschool, a question hit me like a bolt from the blue on that early Saturday morning. Dressed in her festive attire and carrying her Easter basket, she strolled into my bathroom while I was busy drying my hair. “Is the Tooth Fairy real? Because you said Tinker Bell isn’t real, so does that mean the Tooth Fairy isn’t either? Do parents hide Easter eggs too? And do they bring the baskets?”
Caught off guard, I turned away to conceal my surprise, silently muttering, “Oh no!” Why was it always me getting these tricky questions? Just recently, she had inquired about where babies come from and how they end up in a mother’s belly. On her first day of first grade, she declared, “Angela said the Tooth Fairy isn’t real. Are you the one who leaves the money?”
In the past, I would respond with, “What do you think?” hoping she would sidestep the issue. But this time she wasn’t buying it. “I think the parents do it. Is the Easter Bunny real, Mom? How does he get inside without tripping the alarm?”
And there it was—the pivotal moment. I had always promised myself that I would be honest when directly asked. I never liked deceiving her, even if the magic of childhood rituals was something we cherished. Now that she was older and incredibly perceptive, I felt a pang of guilt. Part of me longed to say, “Yes, honey, parents help keep the holiday magic alive. The Easter Bunny isn’t real; it’s always been us.”
But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I managed to choke out, “Can we discuss this later, just the two of us?” That seemed to appease her, but deep down, I realized that I was clinging to the magic not just for her, but for myself. I wanted to savor every fleeting moment of her childhood.
After the festivities, my husband and I had a quick discussion about what to do. He was open to telling her the truth if she pressed again, but he didn’t want to imply that she should believe just to receive gifts. We worried that if we revealed the truth, she might spill it to her friends or younger sister. I spent the day scouring the internet for the right approach, even consulting our pastor at church for advice.
When bedtime arrived, and it was just the two of us, I felt ready to have that conversation. After tucking in her younger sister, I tiptoed into her room, took a deep breath, and summoned my courage. “Hey sweetie, what are you up to?” I asked casually.
“Writing a letter to the Easter Bunny! I’m not sure what to say, but maybe we should leave him a present this year?”
I smiled and replied, “That’s a great idea! Let me know when you’re finished so we can read it together.”
At that moment, I decided to trust my instincts. She was on the cusp of growing up, still clinging to the magic. So, I chose to give her one more year filled with the Easter Bunny’s cotton-ball trails, candy-filled eggs, and wide-eyed wonder. Next year, we would be honest, but this year, we would cherish the smiles.
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In summary, the transition from childhood belief to the realization of reality can be bittersweet for parents. As we navigate these tender moments with our children, it’s essential to cherish the magic while it lasts, for soon enough, they will be ready to embrace the world as it is.