The Magic's Gone

Think back, if you can, to a time when you were a child and you believed in magic. The world was filled with possibilities. Maybe there really was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, protected by an actual living leprechaun. Maybe that was the real Mickey Mouse and not some acne crusted kid sweating inside a giant head. Maybe your mother’s kisses could make a boo-boo all better. It was a time of life ruled by blind faith and trust. You didn’t know much about the bad things that happened in the rest of the world, only about the peace and comfort of your own home. And you believed the things that people told you, especially your parents. What reason would they have to lie to you?

Okay, remember that safe feeling? Now, remember when you found out it was all a lie? The shock, disappointment, and anger to discover that none of it was true, that you believed in something that seemed so real yet everyone but you knew was a big fat fairy tale? It was probably the first time you realized your parents were part of a giant conspiracy to control your behavior and beliefs. When that happened, a little piece of your childhood died, never to be with you again. What brought you comfort and joy was now a crushing disappointment, the first in a series of harsh realities that we all experience on our journey from happy childhood filled with blissful ignorance to cynical adulthood, wary and distrusting.

We all go through it, and it is horrible when we learn the truth about the magic of childhood. I found out the Tooth Fairy wasn’t real early on in my tooth losing years. One night, I put my baby tooth on the nightstand on a piece of paper with a circle drawn around it so the Tooth Fairy couldn’t miss it. The next morning, I awoke to my lonely tooth still inside its circle, blood dried on the rough end, no shiny quarter in its place. And I thought, well that sucks. What else are they lying about?

In my house, my children are still in their magic years. While they might have expressed doubt about the mall Santa, come Christmas morning, surrounded by all sorts of toys and goodies their hearts desired, they are again true believers. They wake up Easter morning to an overflowing basket, further evidence of the validity of the Easter Bunny. It never occurred to them that we are Jewish and shouldn’t be celebrating either holiday; the very fact that they get both Christmas and Easter gifts is clear proof that Santa and the Easter Bunny are real. But last week, S, my youngest daughter, experienced a loss of faith in the unlikeliest of ways. She was disillusioned by her Magic 8 Ball.

S came downstairs crying one night last week. “What’s wrong?” I asked her. “Why aren’t you getting ready for bed? You are supposed to be in the shower.” She didn’t cry like she was in pain, so I waited for the drama to unfold.

“I was upstairs, getting ready for my shower,” she sniffled, “and I asked my Magic 8 Ball if tomorrow was going to be a good day, and it said yes.”

Oh Lord, I thought, here we go. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“And then I asked it if ballet was going to be fun, and it said yes.”

“Do you always ask your Magic 8 Ball questions when you should be in the shower?” I asked.

She ignored my question and continued. “And then I asked it if AH (a bully in her class) was going to be mean to me, and that’s when I saw it wasn’t magic at all. It’s just a cube with words on it floating in some liquid.” She threw her arms around my neck and sobbed.

“Well, of course it has words on it, how else can it answer you when you ask it a question.” I tried to comfort her by rubbing her back and by not laughing.

“But it gave me the same answer three times in a row. Like it’s stuck on the yes. There’s no magic in there.”

S sensed that I was not appropriately shocked, so she went to her father and tried all over again, crying harder to up the sympathy factor. It didn’t work. He told her it was just a toy anyway, just for fun.

“What’s fun about a dumb old ball with a floating cube of lies?” she wailed.

What indeed. Although, up to this point, it did provide a sense of believable magic, that soothsaying billiard ball which has sold millions for decades. In reality, it does nothing but take up room on a book shelf or desk top. Oh yeah, and disillusion kids. A Magic 8 Ball has the same level of legitimacy as a newspaper horoscope or a fortune cookie, which is where grownups go for a little direction in life. They too are not magic, but they can be fun, if you find papers baked in oddly folded cookies fun.

S’s strong reaction surprised and frightened me. It never dawned on me that she would trust her Magic 8 Ball in earnest. The thought of her or her sister learning the truth about other childhood magical heroes scares the crap out of me. The day she no longer believes in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy, the trifecta of magical beings, is the day she might also no longer believe in me.

When I asked her Magic 8 Ball is that was going to happen, the answer was yes. Maybe I should just get her a new one, one that hasn’t lost all its magic.