Babs has recently been investigating the differences between real people and fictional characters. It's a tricky road to navigate, both for her and for me as her mom. Almost every day brings a question of whether someone is real: George Washington? Yes. Mickey Mouse? No. I have a hard time with this because I don't want to end the magic of childhood too soon for her, or MUCH too soon for little sister QuayQuay, but I also don't want to lie to her outright. In those gray areas, I usually try to turn the question back to her to feel out how much she knows or suspects. Thus, a few days ago I found out that she has decided to start believing in leprechauns (uh, okay.) This evening as she was getting ready for bed, after several threats of the Easter Bunny skipping our house if she didn't start cooperating, the dreaded question was asked:
Babs: Mom, is the Easter Bunny real?
Me: Uh, what do you think?
Babs: No, I don't think so.
(stifled gasp, moan, and wail from me)
Babs: I think he's just a guy in a big bunny suit.
Me: OK, well, you still have to be good or he's not going to leave you any candy tonight.
Babs: OK, Mom, good night.
I think the magic still lives.
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