My daughter is something of a storyteller. It’s not that she lies; on the contrary, she is almost unbearably devoted to the truth, such that every single utterance made by anybody within earshot of her is deconstructed by her for the purposes of establishing the exact parameters of its bases in fact. But she does have a colorful imagination, and her fanaticism about truth doesn’t perfectly overlap with the (in her mind, perceived) divisions between reality and fantasy. Which is to say, her attachment to truth extends only so far as her imagination. You’re welcome to try to parse the contradictions there. I have tried, and failed.
She believes, for example, in fairies and Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, in part because she believes that there is some evidence for their existence (lost teeth being mysteriously retrieved from beneath children’s pillows, presents left under coniferous trees in wintertime, chocolate eggs left scattered around the backyard in spring, that kind of thing.) She does not believe in unicorns, because, as she says, she’s ever seen one ‘live and in person’; I’ve countered that she’s also never seen a shark ‘live and in person,’ and yet she doesn’t doubt those, and she replied that, fine, maybe she didn’t believe in sharks, and perhaps that meant that I should take her to Sea World. Is there such a thing as a juvenile opportunistic truther? (I know, I know – is there any other kind?)
She also believes, apparently, that her Mommy and Daddy take baths together every week. (Continue reading this post at Bad Mother Confidential…)