The ritual of the Leprechaun trap started when she was in pre-school. Her teachers, at the exclaimed "Miss Mary's Preschool!" spent the week leading up to St. Patrick's Day making traps for the Leprechauns. The Leprechauns themselves were barely described. The traps, however, were elaborate, ranging from cardboard boxes full of double sided tape to complex Rube Goldberg contraptions made from dozens of cardboard tubes, candy bait and green-yarn snares.
They never caught any, but those pesky little f*ckers trashed the joint. Chairs inverted, green glitter everywhere. It took the entire class an hour just to put the room to rights.
It was Jen's favorite part of the school year. And she believed.
The leprechauns held sway in her life until she was 5, when we moved to the house in the woods. The backyard is 30 acres of painfully beautiful meadows and evergreens, the forest floor perpetually coated in needles.
Fairies obviously tended it carefully and with great love.
For the next few years, she went out and made fairy houses. She believed.
And then the unthinkable happened. She wanted proof. Her friend had started sending letters to the fairies that lived in her backyard. And her friend's fairies (being well maintained by her father the screenwriter) wrote back.
For weeks Jen left notes in the woods that went unanswered. My heart ached for her. She stopped letting us know that she was putting the notes out there, but I'd still run across the meticulously lettered miniature letters in the woods. Finally, I wrote a note, in my smallest hand, on paper made from pressed flowers. I wrote one word:
"BELIEVE"
I mentally polished my "dad of the year" medal.
She came in from the woods, sobbing. It was ten minutes before she would talk to either of her parents -- these people who couldn't possibly understand what was going on her life. These adults so disconnected from her world.
"One word!" she sputtered. "I've given them everything, for my whole life, and they gave me one word."
Kids bounce. She was fine the next morning. She never mentioned it again. But I found no further notes concealed in the small hollows among the tree roots. By Christmas, it was clear that Santa had been exposed for the fraud her father was.
Four years her junior, my son Peter has never paid attention to the world of fairies and the leprechaun. Santa has always seemed a casual, barely understood conceit. Despite having spent his whole life at the house in the woods, he's never shown the slightest predisposition to anthropomorphic worship.
It's not that he has no sense of wonder. It's just that the trees and air hold mystery for him, Instead it's phosphor and electrons and hard plastic buttons. His imagination has, since he was old enough to speak, been captured by the world on the other side of a screen. On this side of the screen, everything is gray and comfortable. It's a world of food and people and books and toys.
On the other side, wise old men teach boys about the ways of the Force. On the other side, Batman and Indiana Jones and Spiderman lead lives of real adventure that he knows will never be like his own. It is an Other truly at remove, intermediated by machines.
Whether through casual environmental exposure, the result of a father whose fingers still burn with the loss of his daughter's belief, or through genetic predisposition, my son has no grasp, desire, or perception of the Other that surrounds us. Despite his indoctrination in our weekly sojourn to the old stone church, I get no inkling that the Other that makes my own life so interesting, and occasionally important, has affected him at all.
Instead, he understands with intimate detail the difference between a robot and a cyborg. He understands at an intuitive level the natural and organic power of the Force, and how it's vastly more interesting and useful than the mere superpowers of various Marvel heroes. And while this makes my inner geek happy, it never seems particularly important.
--
At 3:30pm on Mondays, my wife takes Peter to Karate class. He's very into it, and not just because he gets to hit things. It grounds him. He appreciates the discipline and focus and structure, and perhaps even a sense of belonging to something bigger than himself.
Jen stays home. She sits on a folding chair in the corner of the office, reading. There are many other, more comfortable chairs in the house, but this one is in my office, a fact that is not lost on me. This weekly 2 hour window of near-silence, where she reads, and I write, is fragile and perfect. Occasionally she'll laugh, or I'll sigh, and we'll exchange a glance that means "I LOVE YOU" in eight fully formed capital letters.
Jen stirs. "Daddy, do you have any green construction paper?"
"Hmm?"
"Tomorrow's St. Patrick's Day. We need to make a Leprechaun trap."
I stop typing for a minute. Take a sip of cold coffee.
"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that."
She makes hard, discrete eye contact, in a way children rarely do. Eye contact which says "listen to me, I'm serious, and I am older and wiser than you." Eye contact that grandmothers use to silence ungrateful children.
"For Peter."
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Wait What... It wasn't the Leprechauns! Man talk about a downer.
Wait, you mean ...
Well crap. Now you've gone and ruined my day.
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Dude, spoiler tags, please. And we may have yet to discover dragons. Don't lose hope.
I don't think the two are mutually exclusive - I think as parents we should encourage wonder wherever we can for as long as we can, be that Santa Claus, astronomy, Transformers, whatever.
I also don't see a way to teach kids that some people are not very nice without teaching them to be cynical about everything. The best you can do, in my opinion, is talk to your kids a lot about what is going on in their lives. When they see other people acting like jerks, explain to them that some people are that way but most people are not. As much as I would like to be able to, I cannot shelter my kids from the world, some lessons have to be learned personally. But I can be there to help them learn and provide guidance. I can talk to them about why things are the way they are. I can teach them to be empathic without being subservient, to try and see things from other peoples' perspectives. The only way to inoculate a child from some social ills is exposure.
Brought a damn tear to mine eye.
D.HasselHoff "Hmmm... that's good RTS".
I'm so far from fatherhood that I don't even know where I'd fall on the "BELIEVE" / 'don't tell lies' continuum, but this article does makes me want to build a Leprechaun trap... The trouble is the bait: I don't have any Gunniess, Gold, or Girl-Leprechaun pheromones on hand.
-Time to get creative.
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I'll second the point that sometimes being hurt is the lesson. As they get to be teenagers and need to learn lessons more on their own, it's extremely hard to see the tree, know what's going to happen, keep your mouth shut, and let them run into the tree, but you still have to do it for their sake. My wife sees far too many students come into her college classes whose parents have always kept them away from the bumps and bruises of life, and those kids have a really hard time of it when Mom and Dad can't step in and make it all better for them.
Thanks for the response; it, and those from other parents, are food for thought. Any parenthood is pretty far in my future, but honestly I think that I would do the same. I wouldn't actively encourage it, but wouldn't feel the need to 'mend' their ways.
Although I didn't ever believe in Santa, the Easter bunny, fairies or the like I do see the benefits of looking at the world with a sense of wonder. In many ways I've discovered that inner-child since reaching adulthood.
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Great reading in the article and comments. In a few years I will attempt to become a father and I will take all these ideas with me to form my own way of spurring my childs imagination.
I don't watch, I interact!
How do you feel about imagination bailouts and pre-contracted bonuses?
Words... are a big deal.
Jill Lapore wrote:Editing is one of the great inventions of civilization.
I'd make a crack about Champaign being full of drunken parties, but UChicago students fairly regularly forget to look up from their books while crossing the street, or while walking in a bad neighborhood at night.
We're "passionate" that way.
Words... are a big deal.
Jill Lapore wrote:Editing is one of the great inventions of civilization.
Hmmm. Can you have an imagination that is too big to fail? [insert George Lucas joke here]
And here we see the metaphor run right off the rails ....
"Time is an illusion. Lunchtime, doubly so." - Douglas Adams
I didn't realize until I read this article yesterday morning before school/work that they wouldn't catch a Leprechaun.
My wife and I with our daughters built our first Leprechaun Trap over the weekend. I asked my daughter if the Leprechaun made a mess. She was so excited to tell me yes.
Great article.
The Leprechaun trap is a tradition I had never heard of until this. It was a beautifully written piece, though. Poignant.
One thing I always appreciated about my parents when it came to things like Christmas was an almost enforced belief. What I mean is, even though I eventually found out (from some mean child in elementary school, no less) that Santa may not be an actual person from the North Pole, my family basically refused to acknowledge this. We just realized that though that the Santa Claus myth may not physically be what happens every year, there was a spirit of Christmas acting through my parents with a similar result. We consciously chose to keep the magic alive, even against all odds, if only for the sake of keeping some magic in the holiday.
And that jumbled, somewhat incoherent mess above is why I will never be a writer! But at least I can always be a reader. Thanks for this piece, Rabbit.
This is the first time I've heard of the Leprechaun traps tradition. And is definitely something I'd like to do with my kids when I have them.
Now, I am wondering if there are any other traditions that I don't know about. Do you set up Uncle Sam traps on the 3rd of July? Cupid traps on February 13th? Christopher Columbus traps for Columbus Day?
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I'm not sure about that, but I certainly would fall apart entirely if my imagination were to die. And my imagination does have a tendency to take what it can get and keep asking for more.
Metaphors never run off the rails, but they do pick up steam to the point where it's hard to keep up.
Words... are a big deal.
Jill Lapore wrote:Editing is one of the great inventions of civilization.
A very nice piece. My wife and I are still deciding where we fall on this spectrum - whether Santa is real, or just a game we will play, but let our son in on the game.
Generally, I don't think it's worth it to lie to them. Yes, they get to believe in these wonderful things.. but ultimately these are silly things and do them no lasting good. Coldstream wrote about it at length above: let them find wonder in TRUE things, or at least true mysteries.
Moreover, it can actually be bad. For those of you who think Santa is harmless: we knew a poor woman whose child was begging for a computer. She told him they couldn't afford one; he simply stated that "Santa will bring one". How is she to cope? She can't afford the computer, the child was quite adamant that no half-measure would do, and if Santa doesn't bring it, what does that say about the child? (Was he naughty? Did he not write nicely enough?)
In fact, the only reason I can think to lie to my kid is that I don't want him ruining other kids' illusions! They all have parents that might want to make a different choice, after all.
In any case, I think that belief, in of itself, is NOT a good thing, and should not be encouraged. I think wonder and thought and observation and experiment are all good.
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That's an interesting point. I don't really know why I never had that problem; as a child, I never received even close to everything I asked for, but my faith in Santa was unshakable. I think my parents just managed to convince me that Santa didn't want me to just have everything handed to me. He wanted me to have goals, and things to work towards buying myself, stuff like that.
I think I was maybe a little too gullible as a child.
i really enjoyed that story.
I have only been listening/reading here for a couple of months. I was drawn in by the concept of gamers with jobs but have been kept here by the perspective of gamers with jobs and children. I have only been in that category for 10 months and hearing/reading these stories is something i have really enjoyed.
Elephants are not blue
The poignancy of your writing never fails to bring a goofy smile to my face. Thank you, sir, this rather made my (fever-laden) day.
ps. "Eye contact that grandmothers use to silence ungrateful children."
The Other that surrounds us? What are they telling you? It might be time to stop building traps...
Fantasies are great and I like to explore them, but they are fantasies. I love Lord of the Rings, but not so deep down I know it has not really happened (Sorry to the true believers out there)
I think imagination is a great thing. My kids exploring their imaginations is a great thing to behold. I hope they'll keep doing so when they turn into adults, I know I still do use my imagination every day and I enjoy exploring fantasy worlds. I do however like to stand firm on the reality that is the awe inspiring universe that surrounds us.
Let kids enjoy fantasies, but do encourage them to explore the magic of reality, it has so much more to offer.
Gamers are young at heart and creative thinkers. Shall we play a game?
It's capitalized because it references a term of art.
Words... are a big deal.
Jill Lapore wrote:Editing is one of the great inventions of civilization.
I can only assume that when the antichrist arrives he will be left handed, Australian, and attempting to steal our womenfolk.
Strewth wrote:Prozac is a man's man. Or clinically insane. It's hard to tell.
Its this sentence:
"Despite his indoctrination in our weekly sojourn to the old stone church, I get no inkling that the Other that makes my own life so interesting, and occasionally important, has affected him at all."
This had me thinking this Other is different from Other Others Guess I should have realized Others are often not the Same in the eye of the beholder, although they actually might be...
Its just that I am amazed how some people can believe in one kind of Other, while they think Other Others are clearly made up and not the Same. That is where the idea came from that it might be time to stop building a trap to try and catch that Other, just as with the elusive Leprechauns. You would think people would have realized by now they are far to clever to be caught...
Then again this story really made me think, which in my book is always a good thing!
May the farce be with us!
Gamers are young at heart and creative thinkers. Shall we play a game?
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