Bedtime story

Once upon a time a girl wanted a bed. Not just any bed. A bed that she could store stuff under. Or build forts under. And so, her dad built her one. An amazing four poster bed with plenty of crawl space beneath. The girl loved her bed, except that it wobbled to and fro. When she leaned on the foot of the bed, it would move an alarming amount. This wobbling to and fro eventually led to the destruction of the bed's metal parts.

"But do not be alarmed, child; I will fix it. I have new steel hangers that are indestructible," said her father.

So her father came to visit. He took the broken, flimsy hangers off the bed parts, and put on the new indestructible parts. It was not easy. They did not want to fit. "Ah, but this is good," thought the girl, "for if they are this tight putting together, my bed will no longer wobble to and fro!" And much cursing and hammer pounding and more cursing later, the girl's bed was as good as new. Better than new, for now it had indestructible parts. And lots of screws to help steady it even more.

After five months of having the bed against wall A, the girl decided she wanted the bed to be against wall B. She pulled and tugged and huffed and puffed and cursed and spat, but the bed would not budge! "No problem," said she, "I'll just take off the mattress. Sure then it will move!" So she easily slid the mattress off the bed, only nearly knocking a shadow box from the wall.

"But what is this strange button?" she asked, finding a black circular peg thingy. Looking closer, she sees that it's the peg from one of the hangers. One of the indestructible hangers. Looking even closer, she sees that both the tabs for the hanger is missing! "Noooo!"

Instead of further defying a sure death from sleeping on a broken bed, the girl decided to dismantle the bed. But, alas! As she was removing all of those extra steadying screws, two strip! And another broke off at the head. She looked and searched for something to help, but nothing she found could.

Of she went, on her quest to remove the screws from the bed. First to one store, where an employee handed her something saying, "This will work!" Back home went she, only to find out that the employee must have been the villagestore idiot, because there was no way that tool would work, since it was designed for a specific type of screw. So she returned the failed merchandise and searched out another store. Here, they sold her a tool that she was sure would work. So she got home and tried it... Only to find out that she's not quite smart enough to make it work.

Eventually, after much man-handling and more cursing and spitting, huffing and puffing, and pulling and tugging, the girl managed to get the boards free from the defective screws.

And from that moment, she decided that that bed would never enter her home again. And she lived happily ever after, even if she was relegated to sleeping on a mattress on the floor like some teenager.

What is needed

This morning, Cam and I were out sitting on our porch/overly large step enjoying the air. It was light and chill, but damp with the morning's dew. Camden was playing with a cafe rod, meant to be hung with curtains in his room, but since the curtains have yet to be made, it is his walking stick. His idea, not mine. He went off to the sidewalk with his stick, and was turning in a circle saying "Go away wet" or some such. I smiled to watch him, and asked, "Camden, are you doing magic?"

And you know what he says to me? "No. Me no have wand." And I couldn't help but laugh. My son, the ceremonial magician.

I don't have many tools for working magic. Well, as I've said before, I don't work much magic, so I don't need many tools. :) But I have some crystals, I have a small (copper?) cauldron, and I have a chalice. Oh, and a broom that stays in my car. (So I can say I took my broom to the store. haha) When I was younger and first starting out in the Craft, I just knew I had to have an athame, a bolline, a wand, and whatever other tools the books told me were absolutely necessary to have. But, I was in the closet. And I was poor. And I was selective. And so it has taken me nearly ten years to amass a grand total of zero tools, not counting my cauldron and chalice. One of these days, I might just find the perfect knife. I might just find the perfect stick to make into a wand. I might fill a large leather-bound tome with all the "secrets of my Tradition" and call it my Book of Shadows (or Grimoire, which I find to be much more Romantic-sounding.) For now, though, I guess I'll just make do.

And giggle at the temerity of my son, the Proper Witch.