Today in the car on the way to daycare, drawing a picture for her grandmother:
Ella – I’m drawing a sad fairy.
Me – Hm.
Ella – Do you know why she is sad?
Me – Why is she sad?
Ella – Because the police put her in jail.
Me – Oh. Why did the police put her in jail?
Ella – Because they think she killed the sheep.
Me – The fairy killed a sheep?
Ella – But she didn’t do it. But the police put her in jail. That’s naughty isn’t it?
Me – Oh, but when they find out she didn’t do it, they’ll let her go.
Ella – No they won’t.
Ella – And now I’m drawing the fire. The fairy is in the jail fire.
Me – They don’t put anyone in the fire in jail, Ella. Jail is just little rooms people have to stay in.
Ella – Yes they do! This jail has a fire. It’s a bit of a dangerous jail.
Me – There are no dangerous jails, Ella. And could you not draw something more cheerful? I don’t know if S will like getting such a sad picture.
Ella – I’ll draw something nicer on the other side, ok?
Me – Ok.
Ella – And they cut off the fairy’s wings.
Me – I don’t want to know. I’d just rather not know, because it makes me all sad.
Ella – But they’ll grow back!
Me – Oh ok then. As long as there’s a happy ending, I suppose I can cope with sad stories.
Ella – And there’s a baby one, and she’s happy. She’s happy because she’s yelling at the police: “Let me out of the fire!” And fairies don’t burn or go brown or anything in the fire.
Me – That’s good then.
Ella – I won’t tell S what it is.
Me – Why not?
Ella – Because then maybe she’ll get sad. I won’t tell her the story and then she won’t know.
Me – Maybe that’s best.