The Noodle is turning seven. I am quite a lot older than I ever thought I'd be. I didn't mind turning thirty because a large part of my brain thought I was settling there permanently. But apparently that's not how it works.
On the topic of inhabiting a self-delusional fantasy world the Noodle asked me tonight who really gives him the money from the tooth fairy. He wasn't 100% sure it wasn't the tooth fairy, because he didn't find it credible that his father or I could go into his bedroom at night without waking him up. Being a wonderful mother I kept an absolutely straight face, and didn't mention anything about how I wander in there and put his clothes away at night and kiss him on the head and so on. On weighing up the evidence he decided that it was somewhat more likely that his parents could do that, than that a two-inch high immaterial being carried two dollar coins around the place. I offered no opinion.
He doesn't seem upset about his revelation, but I wonder what he'll be thinking about the Easter Bunny and Father Christmas. He's done well to keep the story going this long - he has a will of adamant.
He got his first two-wheeler (plus training wheels) bike for his birthday. He got it a little bit early, because he had to go to the shop to make sure it fit him. It was actually a great strategy for him, because now he has another whole birthday's worth of presents to open so he doesn't miss out on having presents to open. So what, he's an only child. He should be shamelessly spoilt by his indulgent and loving parents.