A moral dilemma
“Mummy,”said Olivia yesterday. “Do you buy the presents that Father Christmas brings?”
This was too direct a question to ignore, or skirt around. What would you have done? She is seven years old. She has two younger siblings who passionately believe in Father Christmas. I remember believing in Father Christmas was one of the best things about being a child.
“No,” I lied.
“Oh good,” she said. “And I know you wouldn’t lie to me, except for maybe about your age.” Eeeeek. One day I will have to tell her that I did lie, but I was at least crossing my fingers. And as for lying about my age, I quote Oscar Wilde in my defence: “One should never trust a woman who tells her real age, if she tells that, she’ll tell anything.”
This morning I had the written equivalent of a “you’re really very pretty” comment (see below Flirting Allowed blog) on my website. A fourteen-year-old New York-based poet wrote asking me to “keep writing forever”. So I am floating once more. Somehow it meant a lot more than being told I’m pretty. Could I finally be maturing? Let’s hope not.
The only thing depressing me is Madeleine. My husband keeps telling me to stop obsessing but somehow I just can’t. I was awake at 4am again worrying about her. I know it’s not helping anyone but at 4am I have no control over my brain. If it happens again tonight I will just get up and do some ironing; anything is better than thinking about what might have happened to her.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2007
21 May 2007 helena
I have a feeling Olivia suspects……and that the truth might be best, otherwise she might not believe you about your age either!
Like most young women, I like to think of how I’m going to handle certain situations when I have my own kids. I suspect I’ll teach my children about St. Nicholas and why we give presents to each other. But I know that’s not very imaginative and doesn’t work too well if you’re not into the church scene.
I, too, am somewhat obsessed about Madeline. Every morning and every evening I check on-line for new information regarding the search. (Although the story has made the news in the US, updates are infrequent.) My little 2 year old resembles her to a degree, and I simply cannot imagine what I would do if something happened to her. It is so frustrating because someone, somewhere, has information concerning her whereabouts. They just need to tell. How can they continue to keep silent?
While driving in the car with me, my then 10 year old daughter got quite upset about something quite trivial that had happened at school that day.
And, and…I bet there’s no tooth fairy either!” she shouted desperately trying to compound her misery.
I concentrated on the traffic.
“See I knew that and I bet there’s no Santa Claus either don’t dare answer that!” tumbled forth.
With apologies to all the fairies who must surely have died at the bottom of the garden in want of a more stout defence, I told her there would always be a surprise under my Christmas tree for her as long as she believed in the magic of Santa.
She’s now a worldly thirteen, almost fourteen, year old who looks forward to Christmas morning unknowns as she always did, talks Santa up big time for her little brother and has never, to the delight of my soft heart, felt the need for either of us to clarify our belief system more accurately.
Hurrah for Oscar Wilde !!
Another one from Oscar Wilde:
“A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.”