Magnet Manifestor

My daughter’s a magnet. She sends out a wish and the Universe rises to grant it.  She may long for a toy, a book, a friend or an adventure. Upon giving voice to it, the desire more often than not magically manifests.

My girl’s not demanding. Asking politely for what she wants is just part of her operating system. “Mom, I’d like to be an olive for Halloween.” I think it over a minute. Right on! We call her amazing seamstress-grandmother. “Sure,” she says. “Kalamata or Spanish green?” I take my daughter’s measurements, but more than that, I’m taking notes. “Ask and ye shall receive.”

Right now my daughter’s front teeth are missing. She lost both upper incisors in the span of two days. A couple of weeks ago, after being served another ear of corn or a rubbery bagel, she sent up a flare to her distracted mother.  “Mom, can we please get some baby food?” Not two days later, an unexpected envelope arrived in the mail. A friend of a friend has started a baby food company and enclosed were samples. The food is organic, dried, and portable; you just add water. My daughter ripped into the packages, ravenous. She downed two containers of apples and one package of peas. “I liked the apple better, she said, licking the last trace of bright green peas from her bowl.

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“If you don’t talk happy talk, and you never have a dream, then how you make a dream come true?”  — Rodgers and Hammerstein, “South Pacific”