Miss M:  ”Granny, was Santa born in somebody’s tummy?”

Granny:  ”Erm, probably M…, gulp”

Oh

My

Bob!

Seriously, sometimes this child amazes me.  She thinks about stuff much more than I ever did.  I suppose she’s a true product of her age, a result of the information generation.  If she wants to know something, she asks.  And don’t get me wrong, I love it.  I love her thirst for knowledge.  I love that she doesn’t just accept not knowing stuff.  But it got me thinking.

In a few years time, hell probably somewhere even now, a small child will google the following questions…

1.  Was Santa born in somebody’s tummy?

2.  Is there really an Easter bunny?

3.  Where do tooth fairies come from?

And they will find an answer, and all the magic and mystery will disappear from their small world in an instant.

And that makes me so sad.

I know not every child will do this.  Some will be more cautious, or simply happy to hold on to the possibility of a little magic, satisfied with those bits of their world that are hard to understand, but that create a little joy, a little food for the imagination.

But kids like Miss M, who want to know, know, know, what will happen to them?

There has been so much discussion recently about the safety of our children on the internet, and I wholeheartedly agree with monitoring their use, being beside them, educating them.  But as younger and younger children become internet savvy, maybe we need to protect some of the magic a little too?  I don’t know how.  I suppose it would be in the same way we protect their physical and mental well being. But is it the right thing to do?  Is it right to keep things from them because of our idea of an idyllic childhood?  Would we be doing this for them or for us?

What do you think?

Me:  ”You won’t get lost sweetie.  Your teachers will look after you, and they’ll be all organised.  You’ll be holding hands with one of your friends and you’ll all be together.”

She looks at me, doubt in her eyes, her small hand squeezing my finger.

Me:  ”M it will be a lovely day.  And you’ll see Santa, and help get a Christmas Tree, and play and have your lovely dinner.  It’s going to be so much fun.  And Mummy wouldn’t let you go if she didn’t think it was safe.”

I kneel beside her and she wraps her arms around my neck as I hold her close and rest my lips on the top of her head.  Then she pulls back a little and stares deep into my eyes.  I return her stare and nod sagely.  In my head my expression is wise and firm and sure.

Me:  ”I promise. ”

She nods, smiles and wanders over to the door to tug her Minnie Mouse Wellies on over her jeans, tights and double socked feet.

And now I’m thinking, ‘please let her be ok, please let her be ok.’

Sometimes I hate those two little words, ‘I promise’.