The stuff fairytales are made of

We all remember the bed time stories of our childhood. The shoe fit Cinderella, the frog was turned into a prince, sleeping beauty was awakened with a kiss. Once upon a time and then they lived happily ever after. Fairy tales. The stuff of dreams. 

But then. The problem is: fairy tales don't come true. It's the other stories. The ones that start in dark and stormy nights and end in the unspeakable. The nightmares always seem to become the reality and have a way of ending up with every dark cloud having a silver lining.

I know this one girl whom I regularly chat with. Her child is now 6 years old and she refuses that her little girl read fairy tales or delve into Disney movies with princess and ball gowns. The father, or her ex-finance left. Just disappeared one day. Went to work, never came back. Her prince charming took his white horse and road into the sunset and left her with a little baby girl. In her story, he will always be the guy who left her. Now, she refuses that her little girl read any fairy tales in the hope that she won't get her hopes up and expect a Prince Charming who will run after her and bring her the lost shoe she left at the ball, or rescue her from the tallest tower. Her little girl now lives in reality.

Reality. It's it so much more interesting than living happily ever after? 

It's rare that the happily ever after ever happens. There is a reason why fairytales end when they do. The crystal clear image should be kept. They don't want to tell kids or most grown ups that Cinderella grew tired of being perfect and ran off with the stable boy or Sleeping Beauty who lied about how her finger actually got pricked. Snow White's stepmother did eventually return, and got her way - evil doesn't die that quick. 

Reality, as scary as it is, is what happens in the end. 

As I said, it's the story that starts with the dark and stormy night and ends in an unspeakable way - it's that story which kids should be told.

Dream a little dream of me

As a child you use to spend hours thinking up little movies in your mind. It's what doctors and so called psychologists call daydreaming. 

Daydreaming is an all around activity. I'm pretty much sure everybody can say they do it at least once a day. It would be a shame to meet somebody who has lost the ability to dream.

It might be naive and surreal to live in a dream and spend your time thinking up fantasy's that you can get caught up in for hours. 

Sometimes you end up with a smile on your face, or you sit with a blank stare. Other times the fear or worry etches it's way into your face. Or, other times, that naughty little smile on your face can raise suspision as to what you are really thinking about.

I believe that living in your fantasy is sometimes better than the harsh reality we face. Admit it. You'd rather live with that corny ending in your mind than the ending reality has got planned. 

I can't say why people lose the ability to dream? It's almost impossible to think why people would leave that behind and turn to this cold unforgiving world. Most times, our dreams allow us to believe in the impossible and we can at least try. It's ten times better than trying and saying you did something. In the end you aren't the person standing back, moaning and critisizing the guy who tried.

Fantasy's in your mind keeps us young. No matter how old you are, you never lose the ability to dream.

Never stop dreaming. Dream a little dream. Run away to your fantasy world. Have fun or face your fears. 

Just never stop dreaming.

A story with toys

A little kid's best friend isn't another kid down the street or somebody from school. It's not the imaginary friend that comes to play when you enchant yourself to the magical kingdom. A kid's best friend is a toy.

Naturally, my Power Rangers was my best friends. I had every single one of them and we had the best adventures ever. Escaping from the evil alien lords that came to invest their lair down in the mountains, running away after they have been destroyed or just having a fun day by the man-made block of ice.

My farm animals and pack of wild dogs also came to visit them frequently. And how can I even forget about those army men and tanks and race cars that held their weekly races in the corridor of my house to my mothers dismay. And the huge teddy bear I had since I've been 2 that was the evil lord "Snuggles" that loomed down on them from my closet.

Yes. I had the most wild imagination when I was little. For hours and hours I would retreat to my room or the back yard and just play my heart out. Whether I just had the most awefull  fight with my mother or whoever in the family, my toys were always there, waiting to be my safety net as I jumped into a intense session of playtime. They were my friends, my family, my roomies.

Finally, after 13 years, I had to pack my toys away in bags that would be donated to pre-schools. I remember that afternoon so well.

My mom called me to my room where she was now standing with three black bags and waiting for me - no smile, just a serious glimpse. "It's time I made space in your room. The chest with all your toys. It's gotta go." I didn't like this at all. "Is it really necessary?" Needless to say. She won and I had to clear the chest out. The whole process took 3 hours. I sat there and remembered every adventure I had with them. I didn't say goodbye. After three hours my mom got into my room. She saw only two bags and began howling at me. When she finished I revealed the third bag. "I want you to keep it. If my sister or brother gets kids I want them to play with these toys. Don't look inside. Just keep it locked away."

In that bag the Power Rangers were probably waiting for 4 years till my sister's oldest child, Deané got a chance to play with them. When she came to stay at grandma, she had adventures with them. But I think they miss the imagination that I had.

Toys are kids best friends. Not other kids.