Did you know I used to be a fairy? It's true.
Several thousand years ago in another life, I was in high school, and I had very large eyebrows. I signed up for drama and attended my first audition, where it was determined that my talent for painting sets utterly eclipsed my talent on the stage, where I mostly tried to act like myself but louder.
I auditioned for Titania, Queen of the Fairies in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream.
I was lucky to nab the part of Cobweb, aka Fairy #4 when the original actress broke her arm. My costume was a piece of gauze and a tutu over a purple J.Crew gingham bathing suit. But I painted some fabulously glittery trees and did some garish amateur face painting with lots of curlicues.
Oddly, fairies have returned to my life, and I'm just as conflicted about them as I was at sixteen.
For one thing, my child loves fairies. Loves her fairy costume, loves her fairy wings, loves the fairy magnets we bought her, hoping to hold her in one place for more than two minutes. The only way I can entice her to eat a quesadilla is to call it a "fairydilla" and let her help sprinkle on the "magic cheese glitter". I try to balance the fairies out with some nice, swashbuckling pirates, but it's obvious that she prefers the costume with sparkles and wings to the one with the eyepatch and hook-hand.
For another thing, I begin to suspect that I now live with a changeling child placed here by fairies to repay me for torturing my own mother in my youth. The Biscuit has always been quiet, polite, helpful, and thoughtful, but in the last two weeks, she has become a sort of willful force of nature. The tyrranical three-year-old in her is awakening, and I spend a lot of my time flummoxed by the best way to nurture her independent spirit without throttling her.
She doesn't want to eat my food. She doesn't want to do anything that I propose. She claims that she doesn't love me... until she gets hurt doing something outrageously foolish that I've told her specifically NOT to do 431 times and starts crying for Mommy. She wants to love her brother, but her version of "love" involves a lot of grievous bodily harm and angry screaming. And I can't take her to a playground to run the energy and jerkiness out of her, because it's 98 degrees out there.
Yesterday, she hugged me with such explosive violence that I now have a split lip. She was wearing a tutu and ballet slippers at the time.
So here's the time line: i was an annoying child --> I made a bad fairy --> My perfect child was replaced by a changeling child by malevolent fairies --> My child wishes to be a fairy --> My child beats me up dressed as a fairy.
In the immortal words of Oberon, and I'm paraphrasing here,
"Don't f*ck with the fairies, because Titania will mess you up, yo".