Here Be Dragons

Is the loss of a child’s belief in magic the start of a new, more depressing reality — or just another step along the path?

[This was re-republished as part of the Late Winter 2020 Monadnock Underground print quarterly.] Note: Dan Szczesny is an award-winning New Hampshire journalist, author, and speaker. His latest work, The White Mountain, along with all other things Dan can be found at his website here. For the entire month of November, Dan published daily “live essays,” such as this one, on his Facebook feed. We are grateful for his permission to reprint some of these essays here at Monadnock Underground over the next few weeks. You can find the original post, from November 27, here. — CJD

Out of the blue, from the back seat of the car, you say, “Daddy, dragons aren’t real.”

This is a sharp stab, an ambush, a surprise attack on the very
foundation of my parenting process and expectations. Devastating!

I’m not a serious fan of dragons, baby, though they did play a big role in my life in my Dungeons and Dragons days. (Come to think of it, they continue to pop up in my life, in particular when I play Spellfire with my nephew.)

Still, in four words you’ve laid bare the undeniable truth of becoming an adult — that is to say, you stop believing. A truth, which I would add, not only have I attempted to curtail you from reaching but even more importantly, a truth which you’ve helped me reclaim.

Having you in my life allowed me to shuck off the leaden restraints of disbelief; to be more mindful and less cynical. Every morning I’m able to wake up and understand that awe and wonder are once again part of my life. I don’t believe in dragons, perhaps, but through your eyes I’ve seen wondrous things I can’t explain, had moments of epiphany almost daily and am grateful of every moment we spend together.

And now this. As one of the foremost authorities on dragons, J.R.R. Tolkien once wrote, “So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their endings.” Is this the end of your belief, baby?

At the edge of the maps and globes the ancients used to make, there was always the head or tail of a dragon or some other beastie lurking about — a reminder that they didn’t really have any idea what was out there. The phrase, “Here be dragons,” a rejoinder to suggest danger of the unknown, comes out of those early globes.

So here we are, just a kid and her dad, talking about dragons that you no longer believe exist.

“What makes you say that, baby,” I ask.

“I dunno, just they’re too big I guess.”

This is a crossroads of the sort that, my guess is, parents have been having to deal with for a long time. Do I argue in favor of dragons and try to convince you? Do you need assurances that dragons are, in fact, real, if even symbolically? Or, do we let this one go, and redouble my efforts to reinforce the Santa/Magic fire wall?

Study after study has shown the disturbing fact that kids are rejecting their belief in magic earlier and earlier, some suggesting that the magic is gone as early as six or seven years old.

Health and parenting writer Seema Iyer writes that what I’m feeling is actually fairly common, that I’m equating a drop off in fantastical belief with a loss of innocence. And I don’t wish for you to lose your innocence.

“One argument for this loss of wonderment is the world being more depressing,” she writes. “Children are aware that these problems are not being solved with spells and magic. And that depressing reality may also be feeding into this rejection of the fantastical.”

And while I’m not so certain the world is any more or less depressing for children then it ever has been, I do agree that as you get older, you begin to understand better how the world works. And it requires some effort and self-awareness to make the jump from believing in magic to believing that science and culture and tradition can be magical.

Still, it would be nice to find a place for dragons.

“Do you think dragons ever existed?” I ask.

“No,” you say. Do I detect a hint of sadness? After a long pause, you continue, “But I’m afraid of goblins!”

“Really? Goblins? What do they look like?”

“Blobby and smelly.”

“Why are you afraid of them?”

“I dunno, they’re scary and loud. They don’t like fairies though.”

“Who?”

“Goblins.”

“So, fairies exist though, right?”

“Yup.”

I know parents whom never peddle in myths and legends and I sort of get the reasoning — a kid can’t be disappointed by Santa (or even worse, catch your parents in a multi-year elaborate lie) if there is never a Santa to begin with. But I recall a handful of years at my aunt’s house, where my dad swore we could actually see Santa flying by out the window if we were patient enough. I spent a lot of time looking out that window. And that one year where my uncle actually went out on the roof while I was looking and made it seem like Santa had landed. Imagine my surprise when Santa himself came down the stairs. (Actually, my aunt, who I never noticed had disappeared played the role.) Core memories like that are priceless.

“How do you know fairies exist, baby?” I ask.

You make a clicking sound, like you’re scolding me for asking a dumb question. “Because Tinker Bell is a fairy and she helps the Tooth Fairy and left me a note when my tooth came out.”

“Right.”

I wonder if a Dragon Phone App would be as successful as the tooth fairy one is, the one where you can “film” the tooth fairy leaving your kid’s bedroom window.

The actual evidence of the existence of the magic is what drills the concept home; the cookies that disappear on Christmas day or the reindeer food we put out on the front lawn or the note from Tinkerbell.

But you’re not done. “Daddy, fairies live in a fairyland above the clouds.”

“Oh yeah,” I say, “I forgot.”

So, we’ve gone from dragons to goblins to fairies and the world appears to still be — somewhat — magical to you. Soon, we’ll have to make the leap — from magic to imagination, from literal to symbolic and that’s fine. Smaug, King Ghidorah and Falkor are as much a part of my DNA now as they were then — that never goes away.

But, I do hope you hold on to the real magic for just a little bit longer, baby. Go slow. The world is better with Santa and fairies and ghosts. My world is better because you believe and I guess I’m not ready yet to let go of the dragons.