A DREAM IS A WISH YOUR HEART MAKES

babyjade2008

this photo is old and blurry, but i love it. mostly because it was taken by emet, but also, her eyes. and that runny nose!

I was raised on fairy tales of the Disney variety, never thinking twice that the good people at the House of Mouse weren’t actually the ones responsible for those stories. So, naturally, when I discovered the Brothers Grimm, I was a little miffed that ol’ Walt and his team of animators positively bastardized the complexities of the German folklore.

When Emet was born, one of the sweetest gifts I was given was a complete and unabridged collection of the original Grimm’s Fairy Tales. I suppose the only thing more complete would be an untranslated version, but sprechen sie Deutsch I do not. So, English it was, and oh! The language in those stories is just poetic.

It was a few years later, when I was in training to become a Waldorf teacher, that I learned just how important these particular narratives – and the eloquent language contained therewithin – are to young children. The curriculum of the Early Childhood and the First Grade are based entirely upon classic fairy tales and so it was that I decided my children would not bear witness to the animated movies of my childhood. Also, I’m of the media-free childhood persuasion, so it wasn’t really an issue.

As my children have grown, they have indeed been exposed to their fair share of movies and television shows, albeit far less than the average American child. And yet, purely by coincidence, the Disney movies were left unwatched. A few months ago, we were at a restaurant where each of my big kids were given a coloring page. Emet’s was Sponge Bob, and Jade’s was Belle. And while Mr. Squarepants was instantly recognized by the both of them, neither Emet nor Jade could name the princess or the film from whence she came. I felt a little bit proud and a little bit sad, because truly, I loved those movies. LOVED THEM.

So, when my handsome mister called me into his office a week or so ago to show me a trailer he’d come across of a live-action version of Cinderella due to hit theaters this coming Spring, I rolled my eyes a little because, honestly, how good could it be? Only so good that I cried. Not once, not twice, but three times. Every hair on my body was standing on end, and the flutters in my heart told me I had to share this with my daughter.

I will never forget her eyes as she watched, like saucers they were, filled with stars and fairy dust and all the magic I remember from when I was a little girl. In that moment, I knew exactly what I had to do. Why, read her Ashputtel of course, a tale which she’s heard at least a half dozen times.

When Christmas morning came, there was a small package finished with glittering gold ribbon addressed to the youngest maiden of the house. And when she opened it up, she squealed with delight to find her very own copy of Disney’s Cinderella.

To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I saw that movie. I’m almost positive I was Jade’s age, or thereabouts. But when she and I sat down later Christmas day to watch it together, from the moment the first note of the overture sounded, I was mesmerized. I remembered all the songs, all the funny little things the mice say, all the magic. Sharing this film with my beautiful girl, at an age when she is more than ready to appreciate it purely as entertainment, well, it was perfect.

She and I have a date to the movie theatre this coming March, and we are so excited we can hardly stand it!

NOTE TO SELF

poinsettia

Well, we didn’t make it out the door in time for jazz class Saturday morning, on account of too much hot cocoa and too many cookies, which I think might be the eight year old equivalent to a hangover? We partied preeeety hard Friday night, not one but two Christmas movies, and I stayed up extra late finishing the gift she and I made for her friend, the birthday girl. Mama + Daughter Date Nights are some of the very best, just saying.

I found myself with a few extra minutes on my hands this morning, which I put to good use by sitting down at my computer while sipping an extra cup of coffee, a rare luxury these days. Oh, Pinterest! How I’ve missed you! It’s the little things, really. The weekend flew by, and I blame it all on the fact we were busy busy busy. But here we are, Monday morning, with no school routine to speak of and how gloriously extravagant it feels to still be in my pajamas at nearly 10 AM. It helps that said pajamas are a pair of these, the coziest pants of all time. I might not ever take them off, actually. Sorry, B.

I’ve only two things on the agenda today – clean my house top to bottom, and brave the holiday crowds at the markets to gather the last of the necessities for Thursday’s feast – neither of which sounds particularly appealing. I’d much rather spend my day lazing about, making a mess in my studio and avoiding people altogether. There is nothing worse, in my humble opinion, than a parking lot during the Holidays. What is it with drivers? I miss my life as a cyclist every single day, but never more than during this time of year!

I realize none of this is particularly interesting, which, to me, is precisely what makes it so compelling. There is a kind of sweet, calm energy pulsing through my home, and it’s rather lovely to have nothing else clouding my brain for a change except how deliciously simple things can be if I choose to see them that way.