K: Mama, the princess stories are nonfiction, right? Nonfiction means that they’re real, right?
Me: Well, actually we’d call them fiction.
K: But the princesses are real.
Me: You think?
K: I saw the wicked queen at Disneyland. The real wicked queen! And the princesses live at Disneyland, of course.
Me: Of course.
K: So the stories are nonfiction.
Me: That would make sense.
* * * *
M: How do they keep the birds in the Tiki Room from flying away?
Me: Flying away?
M: Yeah. Because they’re real birds.
M: Yeah. They move and sing and everything. So how do they keep them from flying away?
Me: That must be why they always keep the doors closed.
M: Oh, that makes sense.
* * * *
None of it makes sense, really, when the kids seemed long clued in to the reality of Santa, the Easter Bunny, and other large costumed characters. But if there was still magic in those minds, Disney-fied or otherwise, I’m keen to walk a not-actually-lying tightrope to sustain it.