Kaya starts Kindergarten this week. She turns 5 in less than a month. She has begun practicing her ‘You are the Devil. (A really Lame Devil)’ face already. She does not want to hold my hand all the time anymore.
She is growing up.
For the most part, I am cool with that. Oh sure, I have my moments, but mostly I am awed at the new skills and maturity developing every day.
What I am not ready for, is the fantastical imagination getting less, well, fantastical.
Things like my friend, whose 4-year-old who believes all jetstreams are actually fairies flying home. So cool.
Or when on our holidays, the Moon parties all week staying visible throughout the days. Kaya is sure the fairies stopped turning the moon to ash (?) so that it could watch over us and make sure we make it home safely. Every day she points out the still-glowing moon, then smiles. Then so do I.
Just the other day, we lose a helium balloon to the sky. The next day Kaya is watching a show on space, “Do you know why I like this show on space mom? Because I can see if an astronaut found our balloon. If we don’t see that, when B and I are bigger, we will go to outer space to get it!”
So 4- years- old.
Which leaves me wondering what happens upon turning 5?
At Kaya’s preschool graduation, I talk to another mother whose girl has 2 friends a year older than she. She comments how much older the girls seem now after a year in Kindergarten, leaving her daughter behind. Their play, though still imaginative, is no longer so fantastical. No longer fairies or dragons, the play is more rockstars and playing house.
Leaving me already missing fairy wishes and astronauts poops!
Oh listen to me, jumping ahead when no hopscotch is even being played. Break the moment, break the magic.
Forget the possibilities of what may happen soon (or not), the reality is that last night Kaya came downstairs, after being put to bed, to tell me a secret. The secret was that she wished to see the moon.
Pause the PVR. Set down my wine. Jump up without a word, grab her hand, and outside we run. In our barefeet. In the cool grass. As the night is still blackening.
We run along the green belt until the moon is in view. Slightly more than half full.
“Hi Moon! We’re back home now!” she yells at it, then whispers at me,
“I want to see stars too!”
So we run along some more, heads cranked back, searching the skies.
Until I spot one. Then she does. Then we both do. And another and another.
Fantastical not even required.
(Though we will take it for as long as we can!)