Fading Fairy Dust

After receiving a good-night hug from my daughter last night, I noticed a tiny fleck of glitter on my arm. I couldn’t bring myself to brush it away. My husband and I used to laugh whenever we found loose bits of glitter on ourselves. “You’ve been fairy-dusted!”

There’s something about having a little girl that suddenly your house becomes a magnet for everything that sparkles. My daughter used to live in dress-up clothes. We were never sure if she was going to emerge from her room as a fairy, a princess or a ballerina. Everything she owned sparkled with glitter. Wherever she went (like Tinker-bell), she would leave a trail of pixie-dust behind. We would find it on our clothes, our hair and our skin.

Now at eight years old, she doesn’t have quite as much time for dress-up, though she still loves to do it when she can. Her pink frilly tutus have given way to the somber black leotards of the serious ballet-student.

So, when I spotted that stray piece of glitter, it brought a tear to my eye. The fairy dust magic is fading.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could bottle that magic? Maybe then, when I’m feeling blue I could just whip out a little pixie dust. Or should I save it until my daughter grows into a sullen teenager and use it to put the sparkle back in her smile?

Thankfully, my precious girl doesn’t need glitter in order to sparkle. She’s got a glow that comes straight from her heart.

The next time we have a quiet moment together, I’m going to remind her about that.

And then, we girls might slip away for a trip to Claire’s for some “body glitter.” After all, we girls still like to sparkle.