Dragonfly
This month's Blogging 4 Books topic is Magic. If you'd like to enter B4B (it's FUN) and have a chance to win an autographed copy of Shanna Swendson's ONCE UPON STILETTOS, go here.

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My house has always been filled with a type of magic. There are no rabbits hopping out of hats or seances being held at midnight, and though I wished upon it mightily for years, I still cannot twitch my nose like Samantha or blink my eyes like Jeannie. Well I can twitch my nose and blink my eyes, of course, but nothing special happens. I still wish for it sometimes. Heck, I'd even take a little Aunt Clara with her warped magic usually gone a little wrong. Life would never be boring; I'd probably find myself lost in Siberia instead of my dishes miraculously washing themselves but hey, I'd be traveling!

My house is filled with magic of a different sort. There are the table faeries, whom you must not squoosh with your elbows while eating. They are not the quickest of faeries, so while they can find their way around your plates and glasses, they cannot see the fast descending bony protrubances of humans until it's too late. Roast beef with a side of squoosed faerie is not pretty so please, the elbows must stay off the table.

Dragonflies cruise our yard during the day, hovering for mere moments above a ring of mushrooms grouped beneath the shade of a large oak tree. Doodlebug is convinced they are picking up their faerie passengers like taxi cabs in New York. "Take me to the swimming pool across the yard!" "Take me to the pond!" "Take me to go visit the horse so I can go for a wild ride!" Those faeries. They keep the poor dragonflies whizzing hither and yon until they are exhausted. I hope they tip well.

The fireflies at night are Will-O-Wisps floating about the woods, twinkling and teasing us just beyond the boundaries of our immediate yard. When we rush out the gate and try to chase them, they whiz off farther into the dark silence where humans must not tread (unless they are keen to step on Copperhead snakes or run into Opossums).

My spawnlings are convinced we have a ghost; one only interested in Mom's hair scrunchies. Perhaps he/she was a fashionista and cannot stand to see the fabric covered rubber bands which have not been "in" for so long now. I buy six. Within two months, I have only one. Sometimes a couple appear later, in strange places - a trinket box I bought in Jamaica, the freezer, or stuffed down into the toe of a shoe I haven't worn in years. I would give up scrunchies but that would be admitting defeat (and my hair reaches the small of my back so they are needed at times). Sorry ghostie... the scrunchies stay.

The best magic of all in our house, though, is me. From the moment my spawnlings hit the talking stage, I began wearing the Magical Mama Psychic Cloak. And I announced it to them, often, lest they should not believe:

Me: Shaggy... I know you're playing in there instead of sleeping.
Him (aged 6): *a minute of silence* How do you know?
Me (Hmm, besides the fact you just spoke?): Because I am psychic. Now put down the Legos and go to sleep.
Him (muffled): *the tinkling of Legos being shoved beneath a pillow* I wasn't!
Me: Yes, you were. Now get them out from beneath your pillow and go to sleep.
Him: Wow...

Later on down the road of years:

Me: Go brush your teeth, Doodlebug.
Him: I already did.
Me: No, you didn't, but you need to.
Him: How do you know I didn't?
Me (Besides the fact you have dragon breath?): Because I am psychic. Now go to the bathroom and don't just run the water this time.
Him (wide-eyed with amazement): That freaks me out, Mom.

As my gorgeous spawnlings have grown older and wiser, they have often attempted to test my psychic skills:

Shaggy: Can I go to Cool Friend's house?
Me: Yes, but you may not go wandering about the neighborhood.
Him: We weren't going to.
Me: Yes, you were. It's not nice to lie.
Him: Aaagghh! Not the Psychic Mom stuff again! You don't know that. You're only guessing!
Me: No guessing needed, sweetie. I can hear the thoughts in your head, clear as a bell.
Him: Cannot.
Me: *Mom Look*
Him: Fine. What am I thinking?
Me (after a moment of concentration): That you'd better call Cool Friend and tell him the wandering about is a no-go.
Him: I hate it when you do that! *storms off to make his phone call*

Alas, they are no match to my amazing powers of the brain, my uncanny abilities to hear through walls, see through the back of my head, and pick up on hidden thoughts as though I've implanted hearing devices within their little bodies. The hard part is getting them to wait until Mr. Clean comes home before agreeing to prove my skills at Guess The Number Behind My Back.

Even Mom Magic is bound to weaken at some point, though. Just the other day I found myself addressing a nasty bout of negativity with Shaggy (typical teenager, grunting in the back seat about everything from how long we'd been driving to the place we were going to for dinner, and the fact that he was bored):

Me: Do you have to be so darn negative All. The. Time?
Him: I'm not!
Me: You are. You wouldn't know a positive thought if if bit you in the butt these days.
Him: I think positive thoughts all the time.
Me: So why am I not blessed with hearing them come from your mouth?
Him: *indignant silence*
Me: Thinking positive while you hide in your room all day doesn't count.
Him: Why not?
Me: Because I can't see you to enjoy it.
Him: Aren't you psychic? Shouldn't you just naturally pick up on all my positive vibes?

Dang it. My little boy is learning how to out-logic his Mom. It's okay. I still have another one to work on and, right now, my senses are telling me he's stuffing Reese's Peanut Butter Cups in his mouth while watching a movie in my room. His Dad's hidden Peanut Butter Cups. Sounds like another job for Magic Mom, the Psychic!
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5 Responses
  1. Farm Girl Says:

    Isn't it wonderful when kids think we know everything and can do everything and it really stinks when eventually they find out differently. Good luck with those teenage years, they are so not fun. Why would God play such a mean trick on us when it's hard enough being parents? I'm sure there are some valuable lessons in there somewhere.


  2. Deb R Says:

    This is fabulous, dragonfly! Your B4B entries are always some of my favorites. As happy as I'll be for you when you win some month (this or some other, I think you have to win at some point!), I'll be sorry that you won't be able to enter anymore because I enjoy reading your entries so much.


  3. dragonfly Says:

    Les - Amazingly enough, I'm actually enjoying the teenage years. It's great to watch my kiddo growing up and test his new found independence. And since I remember so well the difficulties of these years, I'm able to keep a degree of understanding that I think my parents may have missed sometimes. All the rest is simply Parent's Revenge - and I deserve that down to the tips of my rebellious teenager toes.


  4. dragonfly Says:

    DebR - You just made my morning! I have to admit... *whispering* I'm usually quite happy to just hit the Top 3 without winning because I absolutely ADORE writing these each month!

    I think if I ever do win, I'll continue to write them but not in an "entry" fashion; using them to pimp B4B instead. *grin*


  5. Julie Says:

    Hehehehe...
    Loved your story!
    Your descriptions of the creatures on the table and in your yard are wonderful, and of course, from one mom to another, I can totally relate to the rest.
    Nice job!