Diana was having “story time” with our grandson, Gabe, who was four at the time. I stood outside the door listening in, because I love to hear them giggle together and cut up. Suddenly, Gabe noticed a small skin tag by Diana’s eye.
“What’s that, Grandma?”
“That’s my magic spot.”
“Yes, if I rub it and make a wish, my wish always comes true.”
“Yes, always. But I can only make three wishes on it a day.”
Gabe thought for minute.
“Does Grandpa have a magic spot?”
“Yes, he does.”
“Do you rub it and make a wish?”
“And does your wish always come true?”
Diana sighed audibly.
“No, not always, but Grandpa’s usually does.”
“Where is Grandpa’s magic spot?”
“You’ll have to ask Grandpa.”
By that time I had hurried away from the doorway intending to have a very frank discussion with Diana later concerning the granting of wishes, and also frantically searching my body for magic spot. I have a mole on my arm that looks somewhat magical… or possibly pre-cancerous. Hard to tell at this stage.