Dear Mom is there an age where you no longer believe in fairies?

Dear Mom is there an age where you no longer believe in fairies?


Last week Claire asked me if fairies were real. Some foul person had been polluting my daughters mind with the notion that fairies were not real. I had no colorful witty response that would somehow give the impression of yes without actually saying yes, so I said “yes, fairies are real.”

In retrospect I could have said, “Who changes all the leaves to different colors in the Autumn? Who teaches all the baby birds how to fly? Who eats all the strawberries out of our garden?”

Last night I was in the pub listening to Irish music. My chair was turned around away from the table in such a way I had to reach over my shoulder to get my pint. As I was setting it back down I noticed some drops of ale on the table. Had the waiter spilled a bit when he set the glass down? Had I rocked the glass too far when I blindly reached for it a second ago? Or, ever more likely, had a fairy, taking in the fine music and atmosphere of the pub stopped at my table to share my glass and flitted away hurriedly when I reached for my glass clumsily spilling droplets of precious fluid as it flew out of sight. As I studied the droplets it did appear as if they were larger closer to the glass and got smaller as if dripping from the careless feet of a drunken fairy as a it flitted off the table. I looked around for a moment. Where would I hide if I was a fairy?

Someday Claire will know why the leaves change colors, and how baby birds learn to fly, and maybe even what happens to the strawberries in the garden. She will see her father looking into the rafters trying to follow the little thief that has been drinking from his pint and I hope at that moment she will not wonder if she is too old to believe in fairies.

Love Mike