Fairy Tales

Like so many other 6-year-old girls, The Roo is all about fairies. She’s seen the Tinkerbell movies, she’s profited from the Tooth Fairy’s financial benevolence four times now, and she has several dress-up outfits with gossamer wings, pastel colors and magic wands.

So I picked up Doreen Virtue’s ¬†book, “Fairies 101,” to read to her. It’s very educational. We’ve learned that fairies appreciate gifts, so The Roo drew several pictures of fairies on pixie-sized paper from her American Girl doll’s notebook. We left five drawings and two pieces of chocolate out for them in our flower bed yesterday evening. (Doreen says they love chocolate.)

The Roo checked them about seven times before bed. I reminded her that Doreen tells us we have to be patient, that they’re shy and have to decide to trust us first. Not what she wanted to hear, but a good lesson for the girl who seems to have inherited some of her mom’s control-freak tendencies.

At bedtime, she cracked her window to the Colorado winter night in case a fairy wanted to come visit her in her room.

This morning, two minutes after she awoke, she pulled on boots and ran out front. She was thrilled when she came back in: The pictures were still there, but half a piece of chocolate was gone.

It was all the proof she needed.

Dear John missed most of the fairy buzz this morning because he was hiding in the basement. She filled him in as soon as he came upstairs. I could tell he was wondering what kind of craziness I’d incited. But he at least did not dispute the hard evidence she presented and listened as she filled him in on basic fairy lore.

Here's The Roo with one of her drawings and the half-eaten piece of chocolate -- irrefutable proof that fairies are real.

“What’s a Water Fairy?” he asked after she scampered off.

“That’s a fairy from the water. Duh,” I said.

“You sure it’s not from your ass?” he said.

“No, that’s an Ass Fairy. Duh.”

I was surprised he even had to ask, since I’m convinced the Ass Fairy is his spirit guide. But he’s not always one to notice the magic that seems to follow us everywhere we go now that we have our own little people.

Maybe he just needs some chocolate.


Good Nightgown, and Good Luck

The Wee Man is unquestionably weird. I love that.

One of his little foibles is his strange affection for a Little Mermaid nightgown his sister outgrew years ago. He probably outgrew it last year. Despite its tears, immortal stains and Klingeresque flair, he loves the damn thing.

His daddy does not.

He doesn’t understand why a 4-year-old boy needs a nightgown. Clearly, this man was deprived his sister’s hand-me-downs as a child. That explains a lot.

So when the Wee Man requested his favorite drag outfit tonight, I realized I hadn’t seen the beloved nightie in quite some time.

“I don’t know where it is, honey. Ask Daddy.”

Daddy looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Daddy, did you do something to the nightgown?”

Daddy asked us to define “something.” I asked him to produce it from whatever hole he’d shoved it down. He sheepishly reached under a stack of books in his nightstand to retrieve the precious outfit.

The Wee Man was so happy, his daddy suffered only a mild rebuke. From him.

I was more upset. Dear John knows our boy loves the damn thing, nasty as it is. I’m always quick to redirect when either of the kids claims something is a “boy” toy/color or “girl” sport/look. I don’t want them limiting themselves based on any kind of pointless gender assignment some other jackass came up with for no good reason.

Real men wear pink, after all.

So the Wee Man is delighted with tonight’s outfit, even though there’s no Spider-Man influence to be found anywhere on Ariel’s tattered visage. I love that this kid knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to own it, no matter what.

The beloved Ariel nightgown. View and feel the pride. See that bubble wrap to the right? He likes to stomp it. In his nightgown.

Giving Thanks

“Here’s your Thanksgiving card,” the Wee Man proudly announced this morning. He handed me two sheets of Color Wonder paper connected by square stickers.

Through my magical mommy vision, I clearly can read the word “Mom” and a very rough approximation of his name in preschool scrawl. I thought it was the best card I ever got. He also gave me a Thanksgiving sticker.

Wee Man with his lovely valentine. I have no idea why he's wearing mittens.

Then the Roo presented me with her card.

She is indeed the girl I love most.

Wow. Can’t believe how sweet these kids are. I am extremely thankful for these loving nut jobs this Valentine’s Day.

Shown and Told

It was such a simple request.

“Please go put something on.”

But I should know by now that nothing is ever simple in this house. I was prepared for weird, color-clashing and super hero-inspired. I was prepared for arguments over underwear.

I was not prepared for Show and Tell.

Yes, that really does say "Show and Tell." Yes, the bag is the only thing he's wearing.

Seriously. He really did this. I can’t make this sh!t up. Thank you, Jesus, for cell phone cameras and cell phone addictions. That’s how I was able to snap this epic pic.

The bag was the fabulous surprise in the preschool basket this morning. It’s a huge deal to get it. You use it to carry your favorite stuffed animal, book — whatever — to share with the class. I guess it’s only fitting that the bag nicely covers that which no doubt eventually will be the Wee Man’s favorite toy of all time.