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I think it’s an escape.
A mental escape from the stresses of my life, but I know, since I was a little girl, that I live in fantasies.
I blame the Raggedy Ann and Andy movie into making me believe that my dolls came to life.
It, of course, did not help when the Toy Story movies came out and I animated many of Iain and Liam’s toys.
Iain truly believes his G.I. Joe would have his feelings hurt if he doesn’t get stuffed in his chin guards to “see” Iain play in his game.
That’s my fault, to some degree.
I love to believe in the most unbelievable. I don’t know why.
When I read, for example, I’m completely lost in that world and live there for days.
Right now, I’m in Twilight land and wish I had had a vampire boyfriend in high school. Doesn’t everyone?

But the real problem right now, is my insatiable taste for myth.
My kids believe in leprechauns, that you don’t step on mushrooms for fear of destroying a fairy’s home.
They believe of a fairy that leaves you money for your teeth, and a great wizard that leaves you gifts under your tree.
I make my kids a magic giraffe tea that promises them good dreams and make sure they make wishes on dandelions, lightening bugs and stars.
It is fun to live in a fantasy world, but sometimes it can backfire on you.
Like when you know, Christmas will be small this year and you tell your children not to expect too much as they anxiously begin making their lists.

“That’s okay mommy,” Liam said, “Santa can just get us these, he doesn’t need money.”
Back to reality.
But, for some reason, I will never tell my children that magic doesn’t exist.
I don’t know why.
I think there is so much a part of me that wants to believe it does.
A part that truly believes in magic and miracles and not just coincidences or good fortune.
Maybe one day, I’ll find that I was right and stumble upon the end of a rainbow. One thing I do know for sure, it all works out in the end. Somehow, it just falls into place….magically.