BUSTED!

So the girl comes down to the laundry room with the hangars I had asked her to get and tells me that she found boxes from the Get Real Girl dolls that the Three Kings brought her a couple of years ago at Epiphany. It was my fault; I had gotten the spare from an ebay score to show a friend with a smaller daughter to see if she might want it and didn't put it away 'cause it was the middle of the Spawn of the Babble Extravaganza party. No, I won't be explaining that now.

Back to the girl, who asks me if her Dad and I put her dolls out. I stall ( my standard response to give me time to think) by asking her "What do you think?" She says that she thinks we did it and then follows up with another question: "If you and Dad are responsible for my gifts, what do the kings bring---just candy?" My gut interpretation of that question was that she wasn't quite ready to hear the whole shebang about all the mysterious night visitors that come to our house. (And we have more visitors than the average bear family, what with St. Nicholas, the three kings (sans Amahl), the leprechauns that infested our shamrock plant, left glitter shamrocks all over the floor and green pee in the toilet that they didn't flush...as well as Alyce Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.)

So I punt. I say that the Kings traditionally come to children in Europe and that her dad and I wanted her and her brother to have that cultural experience as well so we did it. I also praise her for coming to ask that question to me in private, because every kid should get to discover the answer to those kind of things for themselves, and that all kids ask that question when they are grown enough to hear the answer. (Thanks to J. K. Rowling, she and the other kids in our homeschool group already understand and avoid 'spoiling things' for each other, so she doesn't bat an eye when I tell her that I expect her to keep this info to herself, and to esp. avoid telling her brother, even if she gets really mad at him.) What she says next plucks plenty hard at my heartstrings: "Can I say it out loud to my stuffed animals? I nod and add the caution that she should make sure she wasn't overheard by her brother.

Just then, the savant comes in from a Free Geek board meeting and she runs upstairs to greet him. I finish putting some clothes in the dryer and take a minute to mourn. I've been dreading this question for the past two or three years; it closes the door to one of the rooms of childhood. I know that she is asking this question at a later age than most of her contemporaries; I think it's due to the homeschool more of kids of all ages socializing together, rather than being lumped with same age kids all the time. I didn't ask my mom until the Easter I was in third grade, which was considered late at that time. (I was also the eldest; and I'm sure my mom fostered my belief to benefit my younger sister.)

When I come upstairs, she is discussing this with her dad, (who is blindsided) and she turns and asks me, "Is there an Easter Bunny?" Now, I have been expecting her to make this synaptic leap with ease; she's quite a genius herself, but I say "What do you think?" because I just can't bring myself to slam the door. She astounds me by saying, "I think so...and there's definitely a Santa Claus." I figure she's just not ready to go there and say "Alright, then."

But now I'm worried. Did I make the inevitable just that much worse for her? As I go over what I said about the kings I realize that I wasn't clear; my response leaves open all sorts of interpretations. Is my unwillingness to shut this door getting in the way of my ability to read what she's ready for and do what she needs? I could really use some feedback here, people, so log in and tell me what you think. (And if you don't have an account, drop me an email at amazonmidwifeblog (all one word) at gmail, and I'll get the savant to get right on it.) }:)