The Last Fairy's Gift

Once upon a time, in a magical land far, far away, a beautiful baby boy was born. His parents were overjoyed. A grand christening was planned for him, and all the fairies of the realm were invited to the celebration.

The day of the ceremony arrived, and the fairies gathered around the cradle of the sleeping child to give him their gifts.

One granted him musical ability. Another the gift of good health. A third physical coordination. The fourth a good memory. The fifth intelligence. The sixth, strength and speed. And so on, until only one fairy present had yet to speak.

Suddenly the doors burst open. As a very angry fairy stormed in, it dawned on the baby's mother (who, like all mothers, had far too much going on at any given time and occasionally dropped a mental ball) that she had completely forgotten to invite this fairy to the celebration.

The angry fairy stomped over to the cradle, and sneered to the sleeping babe: "Although I was not invited to your party, I will still give you my gift. You shall have all of the gifts granted to you by my fellow fairies, but you will take every one for granted and never develop or use them!"

With that, she stomped back out of the room, slamming the doors behind her.

As his parents looked on, grief-stricken, the one fairy who had not yet spoken looked at them and said "I cannot change her prophecy, but I can make it less evil. He will in time learn to appreciate and use his gifts, but first he must struggle to find what he really wants to do with them."

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Thinking about Thing One today. Minus the fairies, this is his story: the child blessed with virtually every gift imaginable other than motivation.

Himself and I are very, very Type A. To put it mildly, a lack of motivation is not an issue for either of us. We wonder how we produced such a laid-back child. (Perhaps a double negative is also a positive in genetics, as it is in math or English.)

Thing One is still young. And he has not yet learned how to work for anything, because he hasn't really needed to for the most part. He doesn't understand the thrill that comes from working hard for something and then achieving it. We know this. And we try so, SO hard to keep our mouths shut.

He is a good soul. A kind and loving and gentle soul. These gifts he does use, and I am thankful for it.

And I hope with all my heart that he will eventually find what he wants to do with the rest of his gifts as well.


We can't take any credit for our talents. It's how we use them that counts.
Madeleine L'Engle (1918 - )