Yesterday she made a wish. She made a wish in the special wishing fountain with the magically lit, sky painted ceiling. "Make me a true fairy and give me a pet unicorn to ride", she whispered in that quiet way 5 year olds have, so I could easily hear.
When I tucked her into bed, she said to me, "Now mama, don't worry that I won't be here in the morning. I'll be with the fairies and I'll come back to get you and daddy and Ian to live with me. I promise". I promise is a very special phrase in this household, we don't make promises lightly. She really meant that she would be living with the fairies and that she would have them to take us all in, as a family.
How could I have the heart not to go along? How could I take her beautiful dream away just then? I couldn't. I accepted her promise and made my own promise. I promised that I would have the fairies bring Flower and Lulu along when they came to bring us to live with them too. I tucked her in tight, gave her extra big hugs and kisses and told her I would see her soon. I promised that I wouldn't worry.
Before I went to bed, I had to check in on her. She was so convinceing, I wasn't sure she would still be in her bed. But she was. Cozy with Lulu and her Lovey, looking small and sweet. How disappointed she would be to wake up in her pink room, without wings, and not in a bed of thyme with a flower pillow. She knew the fairies would come and get her. So I left her a fairy pebble beside her bed. When she did wake this morning, she was sad that they had come to visit and left her without even waking her. But the special pebble was proof that they would come and get her soon. "Maybe they need to build a house for us. maybe they need to make space, it's awfully cold and wet outside for them to be gathering for a new home." She tells me that she will talk to them and explain that her daddy is a carpenter and he can build a house for us to live in. And then the fairies will come for her.
One day my baby won't be in her bed, all tucked in with Lulu and her Lovey. Selfishly, I wish I could keep her for myself. But that isn't the job of a mama, now is it? My job is to keep her believing in wonderment for as long as I can. My job is to help her make her own bed of thyme with a flower pillow.