When we want something to talk about, we play the Magic Fairy game. We’ve never met her, but we are pretty experienced imagining her. The Magic Fairy can do anything the person asking the question says she can.
If the Magic Fairy came tomorrow and you could do any job in the world for one year, what would it be?
If the Magic Fairy could bring one new species of animal to our farm, what would it be?
And so it goes.
If the Magic Fairy came to our house, I asked a few weeks ago, and you could have any style and color of hair that you wanted, what would you choose?
My color, my hair style, said Girl one.
When I was 18, I knew a woman in her twenties who always to me, looked perfect. Make me look Kathy Schumann, I would say when I sat down at the hairdressers.
There is no one you would rather look like than yourself? I asked Girl one, cocking an eyebrow.
Right, she said grinning.
I could not imagine it, but that is what she said.
The other night, it was a family Magic Fairy time. I was getting bored of perfect houses and event tickets. If the Magic Fairy came and you could change anything about your personality that you wanted, what would you change, I asked pleased with my question.
I’d be more brave, said one. Less impulsive, said another. You know where this is headed.
I wouldn’t change anything, said Girl one.
Nothing? You wouldn’t change anything about yourself? It crossed my mind that if she was that hard up for ideas, I had a few suggestions.
Nope. Nothing. I’m how God made me, so that’s how I want to be.
It only takes a swimming lesson, as Girl one decides once again if water entry and cooperation are in order for the day (or not) to make me tear my hair out about how to raise this child. She knows she has things to work on. She probably has more sincere remorse when she’s done something wrong than any of my kids. But for some reason, it doesn’t take her down for good or change the joy she feels about being who she was made to be.
Quite something, that.