The Writing Mamas Daily Blog
Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.
And for that, you are a goddess.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Fairy Tea Party
My six-year old daughter believes in fairies.
I think it might have started with that scene in Peter Pan when Tinkerbell is near death. Only the chant, "I do believe in fairies, I do, I do," resuscitates her. Sometimes I hear Elena mumbling that chant as she draws fairies, always with long hair and double wings.
Elena constructs offerings for the tiny fairies that inhabit our backyard. She folds ivy leaves around peanut M&Ms and coins and reinforces them with clear tape. "The fairies are my best friends," Elena said one day.
Stumbling, I said, "Aren't I your best friend?"
"You are my mommy, not my friend," she chided me.
Trying to be casual, I asked Elena what the fairies do to earn best friend status. “They gave Annika fairy dust. I want the fairies to leave some for me, too. Annika sprinkled some on a dead squirrel and it came back to life."
"I don't know if fairy magic is that powerful."
"It is Mama. When I get some fairy dust, I'm going to sprinkle it over the bunnies' graves, and they’ll come back to life.”
"But those bunnies have been dead for a couple of months. They've become parts of worms and plants. If they come back to life, the worms and plants will die."
Elena seemed confused. So was I.
A couple of days ago, Elena asked if we could have a tea party for the fairies. "Sure, let's make some invitations," I said.
Elena made fairy drawings, and she asked me to write, in the fanciest cursive, the time, date and location of our party. We decided on Thursday morning at 8:30 a.m., after her non-believing nine-year old brother had gone to school.
Elena took the invitation down to the birdhouse she had redesigned as a fairy home. It had a perch by the front door and medal lid positioned on its side so the fairies could study their reflections. I noticed Elena had taken three plants from my flower bed and put them into tiny plastic pots next to our home. Placing the invitation on top of the house, Elena said, "I can't wait for you to meet the fairies!"
The day of fairy party arrived. I made Earl Grey tea, and put it in a ceramic tea pot I hadn't used in ten years. Elena insisted on arranging ten chocolate cookies on a plate. "Fairies like cookies a lot." I suppressed my urge to make some phone calls for work, do the breakfast dishes, or sweep our hallway.
We sat on our deck, drinking our tea. I thought Elena would be upset that the fairies didn't come, but she seemed content sitting still, listening for fairy giggles in the nearby rose bush.
"Fairies are very shy," she said.
By Beth Touchette
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I think it might have started with that scene in Peter Pan when Tinkerbell is near death. Only the chant, "I do believe in fairies, I do, I do," resuscitates her. Sometimes I hear Elena mumbling that chant as she draws fairies, always with long hair and double wings.
Elena constructs offerings for the tiny fairies that inhabit our backyard. She folds ivy leaves around peanut M&Ms and coins and reinforces them with clear tape. "The fairies are my best friends," Elena said one day.
Stumbling, I said, "Aren't I your best friend?"
"You are my mommy, not my friend," she chided me.
Trying to be casual, I asked Elena what the fairies do to earn best friend status. “They gave Annika fairy dust. I want the fairies to leave some for me, too. Annika sprinkled some on a dead squirrel and it came back to life."
"I don't know if fairy magic is that powerful."
"It is Mama. When I get some fairy dust, I'm going to sprinkle it over the bunnies' graves, and they’ll come back to life.”
"But those bunnies have been dead for a couple of months. They've become parts of worms and plants. If they come back to life, the worms and plants will die."
Elena seemed confused. So was I.
A couple of days ago, Elena asked if we could have a tea party for the fairies. "Sure, let's make some invitations," I said.
Elena made fairy drawings, and she asked me to write, in the fanciest cursive, the time, date and location of our party. We decided on Thursday morning at 8:30 a.m., after her non-believing nine-year old brother had gone to school.
Elena took the invitation down to the birdhouse she had redesigned as a fairy home. It had a perch by the front door and medal lid positioned on its side so the fairies could study their reflections. I noticed Elena had taken three plants from my flower bed and put them into tiny plastic pots next to our home. Placing the invitation on top of the house, Elena said, "I can't wait for you to meet the fairies!"
The day of fairy party arrived. I made Earl Grey tea, and put it in a ceramic tea pot I hadn't used in ten years. Elena insisted on arranging ten chocolate cookies on a plate. "Fairies like cookies a lot." I suppressed my urge to make some phone calls for work, do the breakfast dishes, or sweep our hallway.
We sat on our deck, drinking our tea. I thought Elena would be upset that the fairies didn't come, but she seemed content sitting still, listening for fairy giggles in the nearby rose bush.
"Fairies are very shy," she said.
By Beth Touchette
Labels: Beth Touchette
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