A visit from the Bedtime Fairy

Buying presents for going-on-adult children can be a drag as practicality rears its unsentimental head. As Savannah's 20th birthday approached, Brad and I found ourselves reacting to some of her relatively small, college-related expenditures. "Want us to buy this textbook for your birthday," I asked Savannah as we stood in line at the RIT Barnes & Noble. A day or so later, Brad walked into the house with a backpack designed to both carry her books and shield her laptop. So now what? Meal-wise, Savannah was covered. Her father made her a wonderful fried fish dinner with creme brulee for dessert. Birthday cards flooded the mailbox. But the hoopla of present-opening was a little lackluster. Sydney rallied a bit with her thoughtful offering of water-purification tablets for when Savannah decided to embark on a great wilderness adventure. Even though I knew my daughter appreciated the practical gifts that reduced the burden on her own finances, I longed for the childhood excitement that accompanied a pile of brightly-wrapped birthday presents.

Shockingly, I was a selfish snot when I was little. I distinctly remember thinking, after observing the living-room wreckage of ribbons and paper and bows, "Is that it?" I know...I am so ashamed. However, that ridiculous mindset heavily influenced me as a mother. Hence, the invention of the Bedtime Fairy. I always held a present back at Christmas and for birthdays to tuck under my daughters' pillows to add a little bit of magic to the end of the day. Occasionally, the Bedtime Fairy would simply arrive on random evenings, just to keep things interesting. "We hear the wings of the Bedtime Fairy," we'd sing out, listening as pajama-ed feet would scamper to their room.  It wasn't until they'd hit double-digits that the true magic of the Bedtime Fairy was revealed when presents started arriving under my own pillow. Unlike me, my daughters are appreciative, generous, selfless human beings.

The Bedtime Fairy was the only remnant of Savannah's birthday that I had left as she exited her teen years. I wish you could have seen her face when she lifted her pillow to see the Swedish Fish that "The Bedtime Fairy" had left her. An hour later, I fumbled upon some birthday scratch-off lottery tickets that I bought earlier in the week. I tip-toed into Savannah's room and gently shook her awake, waving the tickets in front of her. "Savannah...look! Scratchers!" I whispered. "What," she mumbled blurrily as I thrust the scratchers into her hand. "Don't ya want to see if you won," I asked, confused as she rolled over and pulled the blankets up to hide her face. I slipped out of her bedroom quietly, realizing that a bit of the old magic still existed. And the Bedtime Fairy came through in the end:  Savannah won two bucks!