The Tooth Fairy (or Easter Bunny, or Santa Claus . . .): a fun and harmless fiction, or a pointless justification for lying to children? – Daily Prompt
These sort of made up magical characters are not much lies anymore; they’re more the traditions created by the efforts of many generations, and I think that these “fictions” have done nothing but benefit my childhood. So, YES YES YES, fun and harmless, but really, so much more.
I’m 16. I’m pretty sure that at 12, I had gotten a clue that there was something fishy about the whole Santa deal. I’d never been exposed to many stories about the Easter Bunny, and someone had ruined the Tooth Fairy when I was very young. Therefore, I am writing this post with relatively little experience, but I have the advantage of recency. Most other adults have probably forgotten the emotions sequestered to a myth like Santa Claus, and are basically writing from a purely hypothetical point of view. Some other bloggers might have children, in which case they are seeing the effects of such a myth right here, right now.
The sort of folktale legend concept was an essential component of my childhood, a crucial point in the development of my imagination. Believing in Santa meant I became extra obedient around December. I really got into Christmas music and Christmas movies. It was a joyful, magical time for me.
But then I got older, and so did my peers. Doubt and skepticism seemed to increase exponentially with each coming year, so I gradually became more doubtful and skeptical myself. Some people might have been hurt, but for a greedy child like me, my only reaction was trying to fake it so that my parents would continue buying me childish presents. I’d also never told them that I didn’t believe in the Tooth Fairy, so dolla dolla bill y’all.
Then, I was ambivalent about whether or not I should ruin the experience for my little sister, who was 3 years behind on this gradual realization. I think I might have exposed the lies at some point. :(
Even though I eventually learned that the whole thing was a lie, I’m glad Santa was a part of my childhood.
I’m sure that as a parent, I’ll try my best to maintain the whole story. I’ll make holidays as realistic as possible, but I’ll also have to balance the greediness in my children.
So perhaps these characters are harmless, but only to a point. Be sure to never let the greed overwhelm you or your children.
An ode to my mug, inspired by Daily Post. Happy Valentines’ Day, by the way.
There’s this mug that I bought fairly recently that I favor over all of my other mugs.
It’s a fat white mug with a cute Santa on the side (see above).
Whenever my cupboard is full, I will look for this pretty and simple mug to hold my water, my juice, my milk, my tea, and my coffee.
I bought it myself over winter break! It was very cheap and probably on sale and a purchase that I made on a whim.
It’s quite simple to use. You just put your food or your lotions or your knicknacks in it and it will hold it for you patiently, like the obedient little mug it is.
The rim is wider than most, and thus much easier to clean than other mugs. It does not give me a hard time. While most mugs have a greater height than they do a width, this mug is special. It’s fat and stout and reminds me of Santa Claus himself. This perception leads me to believe that the cup can hold much more than it actually can; it’s potential surpasses that of other common, ordinary mugs.
It’s a versatile mug, yes it is. It can hold whatever you want it to hold. Apple slices, goldfish, marshmallows, and any drink, hot or cold. It can handle anything.
At this point, it’s still new. It doesn’t matter that it’s only come into my life recently. Even though I have other mugs that I’ve had for years and years (decades even), this one stands out. When this mug chips, each exposure of the earthenware underneath will demonstrate how much it’s loved and used.
In reality though, it’s a mug. It’s a mug. IT’S A MUG. IT’S A MUG. It hasn’t changed my life. The day has not come that I wake up, glance at my mug, and decide to be a better person. I just enjoy the presence of the mug. I’ll set it on a table, and instantly the table seems more classy. I’ll feel fancy and warm and happy, holding a warm cup of who-cares.
The bigger picture is that we tend to love things that are not only useful, but something that we ourselves have selected. It makes us feel as though we’ve made the right choice for once, the indirect effects of which can be seen everyday through our serenity.
We all have that one inanimate object that for some indescribable reason sticks with us. It just seems inappropriate to give it a name, as it is not something to have a conversation with, but rather something that just stays with you and gives you silent, unspoken comfort. Like a pet. Or a plant.
Do you have something like that?
(photos pulled from my instagram @catdiggedydog)