I recently finished reading this book to the girls, "Half Magic" by Edward Eager. It's the most hilarious book. (and one of many I pilfer-- I mean, borrowed from the parents' library) Yesterday while the girls were playing in the basement and I was otherwise occupied with Joseph in the living room, Katie came upstairs, found Miriam's wallet, and brought it down. I heard coins clanking on the table downstairs for a while. After a time Miriam came upstairs, sighed heavily, and said, "It just didn't work."
"What didn't work?" I asked.
"Well," she replied, "I wanted to be a baby again, so I got all my coins and tried wishing on them but none of them worked."
"Ah," I said. "No magic talismans in your wallet then?"
"Nope," she said, and sighed again.
Today, she asked me, "Are there any fairies in this world?"
I felt like a murderer when I admitted, "Probably not." (Since you KNOW every time a child says it doesn't believe in fairies anymore, somewhere a fairy drops down dead.)
"Because," with a shy smile, "it would be nice if we had some fairy dust so we could fly."
I felt terrible for killing her hope.
I suppose there's always parasailing. Or hang gliding.
When I'm dead, of course.
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