Tell Me the Truth...

So, that is my baby girl, Miss L, in a photo from quite some years ago. Cute wasn't she, and blonde too. She's still pretty cute, but she's not little anymore and this week, I've had a few reminders that she is indeed growing up.

First a letter from school came back explaining the transition to secondary school and how to apply for secondary school places. Confession time, I've not looked at it because a) I know what to do, I did it a few years ago, so I'm pretty confident I can manage this process and b) how is my youngest old enough to be looking at secondary schools, did I not just apply for a place at primary? Note to self, look more carefully down the back of the sofa, that lost time is definitely hiding somewhere! Don't get me wrong, I most certainly will not be crying at the secondary school gates when she trots off to big school next September, but I am a little, teeny weeny bit in denial about it because the time really has flown by! Also, I need Miss D to outgrow her blazer so I can hand it down to Miss L (isn't that what you're supposed to do?).

Today, I had a Facebook Memories notification pop up on my news feed from 7 years ago. This one broke my heart a little. You see, from a very young age and until about 5 years ago, Miss L, couldn't say 'footprints'. It was so adorable. If you asked her what her feet left in the snow, she would tell you 'pootfrints'. I told you it was adorable. I just love the way that children get words wrong. I remember the first time that she said 'footprints', I was so sad and ironically Facebook reminded me of it this week, the week that I have had to pop my big girl pants on and face up to the fact that this little one is now not so little.

I picked Miss L up from school (I hasten to add, I do always pick her up from school; the school's tend to frown upon you if you don't collect your child), and we started the drive home. She's usually quite quiet on the way home from school, but then she asks the question I've been dreading... 'Mum tell me the truth, is the tooth fairy real?' Noooooooo! Not only has my baby girl asked the question, she's asked exactly the same way her sister did and at the same age. I am sad, but I can't lie to her so I have to tell her the truth.

Miss T. Fairy will shortly be putting her home up for sale!

So, yes I told her the truth and as expected she asked if it was myself whom left the money and took the tooth, again I told her the truth. Then she said that it was okay, I didn't have to leave the money anymore, I could keep it and buy myself something instead. Now I feeling even sadder, she doesn't want to even play 'tooth fairy' anymore.

However, it gets worse. It gets much, much worse, because the next question is, 'So, is Father Christmas not real either?' My world fell apart, now no one in my house believes in Father Christmas and I am sad, sad, sad!

Father Christmas will not be looking so jolly this year!

Of course, the stockings will still be hung up by the fire place, and we will still leave out the milk and mince pie for Santa (and a carrot for Rudolph), but it won't be the same. And on Christmas morning, the girls will come down and happily empty the contents of their stockings, but again it won't be quite the same. I suppose that on the plus side, I could now ask them to leave out a cuppa for Santa, or better still a glass of wine, as I really don't like milk! You see, there's always a positive side to everything!