MARY JANE AND SNIFFLES

Last night when we called to say Good Night to all our group at the beach, they’d had their dinner and all the kiddles were bathed and hair washed, sweet faces clean and glowing after a long sandy day in the sun and water. I could hear the theme song of “Dragon Tales” in the background, for a little wind-down before bedtime.

The show is about a magical world of round poufy benign dragons---all sweet creatures of kindness and charm (one pink one has two heads, a boy dragon and a girl dragon, both smiling). The little show always reminds me of the one of my childhood---does ANYONE remember Mary Jane and Sniffles?

 

 

Mary Jane is a little girl, and Sniffles is a mouse who lived in her room, but who also inhabited a wonderful place of exciting adventures, all always safe and safely concluded. Plus, Sniffles had a better wardrobe than Mickey and Donald combined.


And, in a precursor of the little modern-day Dragon Tales chant of “I wish—I wish with all my heart, to fly with dragons in a world apart,” as they’re magically whisked into DragonLand, my long-ago friend Mary Jane would close her eyes and say,
.

Sometimes she'd cross her fingers, and other times, she'd sprinkle a sparkly little cloud of magic dust over her blonde hair; perhaps the dust led to the greater, more magical adventures, or longer journeys---I never found out. And I cannot tell you how MANY times I tried that little incantation, just hoping for just once to experience that magical transformation.

And so she’d shrink like Alice, and they’d fly or transport off on lovely little innocent happenings amongst small creatures and magical kingdoms with mushroom warriors and candy landscapes and delightful new friends.

There was also a comic-book series, and I bought every one that came out; despite Mary Jane's occasionally also morphing from a childish little kneesock charmer into an uncanny pint-size version of Brenda Starr---disconcerting to a fan of both---I still headed to the drugstore with my dime for that month's adventure.

These small, innocent little beings and their adventures were a great part of many childhoods. They're fondly remembered by many, I'm sure---a lovely memory of a gentler time and an easier stage of life, these wonderful fantasies. That "Make me a child again, just for tonight" would come in handy in many, many of the dire or difficult circumstances of adulthood. And I'm sure, for a lot of children, they provided a momentary escape into another world---one of kindness and loving beings and the hope of a bright day to cling to.

Didn’t we all need transporting at some time or another during those days? And didn’t being mouse-sized seem tempting? Hiding in a shoe, creeping along unnoticed, invisible at the unfurl of a cloak, magically transporting from one wonderful place to another---what child would resist those?

And if you’d had a choice---Transport, Shrinking, or Invisibility, which would you have chosen?