Lily went to a fairy party. The Fairy-chief sprinkled fairy-dust (glitter to you and me) on her head. She is quite sure that she will now grow wings, and went to bed full of dreams of waking up a fairy with her own wings.
This morning when she woke, she asked me if her wings had sprouted. Rubbing her little shoulder-blades, I told her I could feel the wings budding. “What is budding, Granny?”
“Like a flower, Lily. Before the flower opens there is a bud and the flower slowly unfolds”.
“Oh, when will my wings unfold?”
“Well, if you are a good girl; if you do lots of singing and dancing, they’re sure to grow out one day!”
“Do I have to eat healthy food?”
“Oh yes, lots of healthy food is important.”
“Is porridge healthy?”
“Porridge is very healthy, do you want Gran to make you some for breakfast?”
She ate all her porridge on the strength of that.
“Is sugar healthy?”
“Not really, but a little treat now-and-again is OK.”
By this time Rosie was rolling her eyes in 12-year old fashion and the conversation turned to dobbing. Both girls dob on each other quite a lot. Dobbing, for those who are not Aussies, means telling tales – tattling. The discussion went like this: “Why haven’t you got wings Gran?”
“Because I used to dob my brothers all the time so my wings won’t grow, and I’m too old to fly now.”
Silence while this astounding news is digested and then a change of direction.
“When my wings grow I’ll be able to reach all the cans on the top shelf, even the ones that Dad can’t reach!”
“What will I do with my wings in the rain? In the car?”
“You’ll have to learn to fold them up inside their pockets on your back, like a back-pack.”