Fairy Tales

Fairies are big in our house. Well, they're not big, since after all, they are fairies. But they are popular.  Some have even left notes at times, or confirmed their existence by leaving little fairy footprints on the notes that were left for them.  It used to just be N who was fascinated with them. At least once a week, she comes home with stories about who she played "Fairies" with at school. She rolls her eyes as she tells me that some girls don't even believe that fairies are real. Silly, silly girls. The fairies that visit us used to be the invisible kind--I liked them the best. At Christmas, though,  N received a total of 12 new fairies. She loves them all, and she recently informed me that, at night, some of them even come to life.

Since the arrival of the twelve fairies,  we are all developing an interest in them. My own interest is generally limited to trying to figure out if they can really fly, and if so, why they don't fly themselves back to N's room at night. I gave up trying to figure out their names. When I was N's age, there were two fairies: Tinkerbell and the Tooth Fairy. Easy to keep track of. Not anymore. Now we have Iradessa, Rosetta, Fawn, and Silvermist, among others. Or maybe it's Iradescent, Risotto, Bambi, and Goldenfrost--I can't keep track. I can pretty much tell you which shoes go on which fairy, though, since I find their magical little shoes everywhere and put them back on 12 times a day--that is, when their magical little shoes don't magically find their way into the magic trashcan first. Jimmy spends time with the fairies, too. I wouldn't really call his interactions with them an "interest", though. He usually just curses at them when he steps on one or finds one under his pillow. Geesh--what kind of a way is that to treat visitors?

I've recently noticed that B and O are becoming enamored with the fairies. In O's case, I'm pretty sure he just wants their teeny tiny little fairy shoes so he can stick them up his nose. Occasionally, he sticks a fairy in his mouth, looks disappointed that she doesn't taste nearly as good as she looks, and throws her across the room (huh? what happened to flying, fairy?). Then he goes back to looking for other things to put up his nose.

B, on the other hand, has been spending a lot of time playing with the fairies lately. Since the fairies are "off limits" in N's room during the day, he has to be sneaky to get to them. (But we already know that he's a sneak). Somehow, he found a way, and I would occasionally catch him with a fairy. Whatever. He's only three. It's probably just a phase. After finding him with Fawn, or maybe it was Rosetta, for the third time in as many days, I started thinking maybe there was more to it. Fine. So maybe it's not a phase. This is the 21st century. Boys can play with dolls all they want. Gender roles are over-rated. And then, when I found him sneaking out of N's room yet again today with a fairy, I thought, well, maybe this is just part of who he is. That's OK, too. He's my son. I will love and accept him no matter what.

Today, he had Silvermist, or Goldenfog, or whatever her name is, and since I figured this would start World War III when N saw him, I told him he needed to go put her back in N's room. N overheard and, to my surprise, said "It's OK, mom. He can play with her". Wow. What a sweet girl, letting her brother play with one of her favorite toys. "Mom, " N tells me, "She's the mean fairy anyway." The mean fairy? I ask N to elaborate, but all I get is a shrug and "She's just mean" as N goes in search of the other, kinder fairies.

I watch B play with the mean fairy for a few minutes, making sure she is behaving herself. And, as I do this, I realize that I haven't really looked at this particular fairy, or her outfit, before. I mean, I've looked at her as I throw her help her fly up to N's room at night, or as I put her freakishly small pain in the @$$  adorable little shoes back on, but I haven't really looked at her. Until now. And as I look at her, I realize...this fairy is dressed like a hoochie mama. Cleavage? Why does a fairy need cleavage? And her dress is way too short. Or, does it just look like that because B has it hiked up to her belly button? I can't really tell. But, as I remember what N said about this being "the mean one", I decide it's that her dress is too short.

B is holding her in front of me, a leg in each hand. "Look mom! She can do the SPLITS!". I force a smile and say "Oh, yeah, she sure can".  Only it's not really the splits she's doing. It's...close to the splits. It's....kind of similar to the splits. But it is NOT the splits. I look to see if Tarty Fairy is even wearing undies, and see only something that resembles a g-string. And then I finally get it. B doesn't like fairies. He likes fairies. I can't decide if this makes me feel better or worse. I picture him in twenty years, bringing home a real life version of Tarty Fairy, minus the wings-- someone named Bambi or Fawn, who is wearing a human version of Tarty Fairy's dress. I imagine him telling me, "But mom, she can do the SPLITS!".

I grab a truck and give it to him as I take Tarty Fairy away. I look her right in the eye. "Look here, Angeldust, you stay away from my baby boy." And then, I got my answer. Fairies really can fly. Sometimes they just need a little help.

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