“Mommy,” she tugged on my shirt sleeve as we walked through zoo, “do you believe in fairies?” I looked down at my daughter’s innocent four-year-old face.
“Do you Abby?” I asked her wondering what she would say.
“Uh huh. They hide from growed-up people. They are ascared of them.” She said her rosy cheeks glowing and her red curls bouncing behind her.
“Why are they scared?”
“Because growed-up people don’t have imagiminations. Little girls like me do. When you are in the kitchen, I play with fairies in the garden. They like your lilies. Especimally the lily-of-the-valley because they wear them like hats.” Her gray eyes sparkled and glittered, and I could help but laugh at her enthusiasm.
“Do you know the fairies names, Abby?” I was curious to know what she named the imaginary-friends that occupied her days.
“Well, my favorite fairy is a boy. His name is Puck. He’s very silly and like to tease everyone.” I froze. How does my baby girl know of Puck from Shakespeare?
“Mommy, do you believe in fairies?”
“I do now.”