Monday, Nov. 09, 2009

The rise of the Naughty Fairies

Everyone's heard of the Tooth Fairy. Maybe even the Sugarplum Fairy, of Nutcracker fame. Our household is starting to crowd up with fairies of all sorts. But...does it have to be filled with only the good ones?

I swear I'm going to hurl rainbows if I have to enter the overly-simplistic, high fructose corn syrup world of fairy lit one more time (Rainbow Magic Fairies, and their seven million cousins, anyone?). After reading aloud nearly every series on the subject known to childdom, I've begun wishing for some of the amazing Brian Froud picture books of my youth, filled with creatures you'd never see inside a house (much less want to). They're the kind of fairies the ancient Britons used to invoke to scare their little ones into sticking close to home, the kind whose idea of fun is tormenting small children dumb enough to walk into a forest unaccompanied by a knowing adult. No, my little girls aren't ready for that. Maybe not yet.

The Rise of the Fairies most likely began with the omnipresent Disney stories. Now, don't get up on your high horse - my mother works for their Imagineering division (where the theme park animatronics are made), so the kids have been exposed to this stuff since Day One. And I actually happen to like some of the Disney stories I grew up with. (Come on, admit it - bookish, brave, independent Belle is one helluva woman, isn't she?) But even if I had banned all Disneyana from my household, I think my darling mother would have found a way to subvert me and bring that magic into their lives, regardless.

Okay, I'll admit I was the one who first invited the Halloween Fairy into the house. Have you met her? She has a voracious appetite for sugar (sort of like my four year old...), but she doesn't steal what she craves. She's a barter and trade kinda girl. After treat-and-treat-and-even-more-treating this year, Boo and Bug spent a good thirty minutes agonizing at length over which pieces of candy they could part with. Eventually, they offered up two and a half pounds of dental detriment, between them. Beneath the hand-decorated bags, Boo left a detailed note that read, in part: "Your sweet tooth is going to be stoked after you see all this sweet stuff!" In return, the Halloween Fairy left the girls Play dough and coloring books and other goodies in grateful exchange. (She's so awesome, she even put some of the leftover candy in my desk drawer at work. Awww.) It's a business model that works for that smart little cookie - I hear she recruited other moms in my neighborhood, this year.

She has some rambunctious relations, however, surely the descendants of Shakespeare's Queen Mab. They tie tangles into your hair while you sleep, leave messes under the kitchen table, break toys when no one's looking, and replace good batteries with ones burnt out. The one I believe lives at Bug's preschool is more popularly known to the teachers as "Mr. Nobody". The other night, I suggested to the girls that perhaps these mischievous little freaks ought to be called the Naughty Fairies.

They thought that was a cool idea. And just in time for dinner, too. Now someone else can take the blame for my lousy cooking and the kids can learn to forgive their mom before the tweens set in. It's hard to ignore the potential for positive reinforcement.

Sometimes creative fairy problem-solving is conjured up by kids themselves. We're halfway through dinner, now, and Bug has barely touched her food. My usual reverse psychology ("Don't eat those potatoes, whatever you do!") isn't working and I'm segueing into authoritarianism. It's about to get ugly and everyone in the room knows it. Suddenly, Boo shouts, "Mom, you missed it! Oh my gosh! It was a fairy! She was wearing purple and blue striped tights and a black dress with a fringy edge and her hair was all tied up with ribbons and, and - " I listen, wide-eyed, as Boo describes this wee, flying waif in detail. She points past my shoulder. I look away in that direction and when I look back, a bite of food is gone from little Bug's plate. Her big sister is grinning and Bug is trying to, but bits of potato keep squeezing out from between her smiling lips.

"Whoa, how did that happen?" I ask with mock incredulity. I surreptitiously stab a green bean and set the loaded fork back on Bug's plate. "Looook! There she is again!" they both shout. "The Food Fairy! The Food Fairy!" they shriek, stabbing their fingers in the air. I crane my neck around behind me, looking everywhere but toward the table. "Who? Where?!?" I shrug. When I turn back around, Bug is gesturing frantically at her empty fork. She's trying not to let her cheeks puff out, but it's hard to secretly chew your food when your sister's giggle-screams are so contagious. Holy moly - that naughty little Food Fairy just stole one of Bug's green beans.

It's a good thing, too. She HATES vegetables.

I may secretly be relieved they've outgrown wings and tutus, but thank goodness the magic hasn't faded away just yet. Naughty Fairies ROCK.

This is an original post from the Silicon Valley Moms Blog, http://www.svmoms.com. Hiding behind Angela O.'s scientific rhetoric is a heart that secretly believes in the magic of the natural world. She writes about her musings on the spectrum of life, from real to imagined, at A World of Words. In From Basic Training To Black Sash, she attempts to figure out the most effective block/punch combination to combat the Naughty Fairies, should she come face-to-face with one. Angela O. is grateful for the opportunity to share the magic she's discovered with other parents in this original post to the Silicon Valley Mom's Blog.