Do you believe in magic?

On the way to piano yesterday Ainsley asked me if I believe in magic. And of course the answer was yes. Who doesn't want to believe in magic? I certainly want her to for as long as possible, so I'm not confessing.

Then she asked, "Mom, are you the Easter Bunny."

"No," I replied. "Why?"

"I don't know," she said thoughtfully. "All those things coming into our house is just weird."

She's right, and I imagine she'll be the first child to point out the crazy unbelievability of it all. She did mention that the Easter Bunny doesn't hide the eggs at her friend Sadie's house but he does hide them at our house and that seems strange.

My lame response: "Maybe he thinks that Sadie doesn't like hunting for eggs."

In some ways, I want to come clean. I want to quit lying. We're usually really honest with the kids. Probably too honest—except for the whole Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, Santa Claus thing. I didn't want to spoil the magic for the kids, so I have my fingers crossed that when they find out it's all just a big fat lie, they'll still trust that when I say they aren't getting a shot at the doctor, they really aren't getting a shot. And when I tell them that they are safe in our house, they'll believe me. And when they're teenagers and I tell them that I remember how hard it is to be a teenager, they'll know that I really do understand where they're coming from.

She's growing up quickly though. And these things are on her mind. She really doesn't believe in magic, so it's just a matter of time before she doesn't believe in mythical creatures. She mentioned a few days ago that it's weird how nature exists but everything else is created by people. And she has declared that she doesn't believe in God. (Don't ask me why I have to be so honest about my feelings on God but I'm still filling Easter baskets and Christmas stockings and trading teeth for gold coins sprinkled with glitter.)

It is all so very very weird, but fun while the faith holds.