Ever since we were at that birthday party at the beginning of the school year where I changed the conversation with E so she wouldn't hear her classmates discussing the nonexistence of unicorns, I've been fretting over the disappearance of magical thinking.
No, that's not true at all, is it. I've been watching her imagination fold into itself, a more and more private thing, ever since we said goodnight to her invisible friend Carler.
(I love you, Carler.)
It's fine for other girls to have no faith in unicorns, although it makes me saddened for the contractions of their childhoods. But my sweet E, and my sweet L behind her, and that wild boy G who believes he's a wolf or a tiger, I want them to believe in anything possible for as long as they can. I don't want them to doubt the world. Doubt is slippery, and once it creeps in it might go anywhere.
I didn't want E walking into school filled with happiness and have some kid stomp on her vision of a world that still includes magical creatures. I didn't want them to ruin the tooth fairy.
But everything magic has stayed intact another week. E told her class at the first opportunity, in Lightning Share at Morning Meeting, which is a time where each student can offer one exciting bit of news but nobody responds.
Long live the tooth fairy.
Today is the last day of November. Thank you, you sweet things, for reading with me through my fifth NaBloPoMo. Tomorrow is December, which means two things:
1) I probably won't blog tomorrow. Why? Just because.
2) We'll be entering the month of L's fifth birthday. It's time to send in her enrollment papers for the Tooth Fairy Network.