“Gerald Miller! Stop lying to me. If you can’t tell me what really happened you can just go to your room and think about this!”
Gerald looked at his mother, she was turning red she was so frustrated. But what could he do? As he turned to his room he could hear his mother muttering. “What am I doing wrong? How can I get through to that child! He just can’t seem to tell the truth.”
There had to be a way to fix this. It was easier when he was younger. His mother thought it was a wild imagination and she encouraged him and his 'stories.' Of course, they were all younger then. Thinking it over, he decided he had to tell his mother. Maybe that would make her happy.
Walking back to the living room, she was on the sofa. “Mom?” he started, “Do you remember Grampa telling us stories about the pixies?
“Yes, Sweetie, but they were just stories. He started telling them when he was a boy to keep himself out of trouble, Grandma told me. Can I have a hug? I’m sorry I was so angry.”
“It wasn’t that, Mom, there are real pixies. They get into trouble because they like to play and they aren’t careful.”
Mom looked at him and tears began to flow down her face.
“Mom...” and then he yelled, “Come out!”
Suddenly the room began to fill with small lights, swirling and bobbing. As they got brighter they formed into tiny beings, with wings, and they all settled around Gerald, looking at Mom.
Mom just stared.
“So, that’s a Mom,” said Harry, “I always wished I had a Mom.”
Mom rallied, “Well, you have one now, and you are going to learn how to behave!”
“Crap,” said Harry. Gerald smiled.