I had just grabbed a handful of tiny twists when Evan, four years old, walked in and said “I want a snack.”
I opened my hand and said “you can have these pretzels.”
“No,” he replied, “I want my own bowl.”
“But these are magic pretzels,” I said. “Don’t you want to try one?”
He gave me a narrow, suspicious gaze. Cautiously, he asked “how are they magic?”
“If you eat one,” I replied, “you’ll turn into a giant bear.”
He doubted the claim.
“Do you want to try one?”
He shook his head.
“Do you want
me to try one?”
He gave a slow nod.
I popped a pretzel into my mouth and abruptly leapt up growling. He flinched hard, his terrified eyes saying “holy &%*#, they are magic!”
I sat back down. He paused for a moment, grinned widely, and let out a belly laugh that was part joy and part relief that this was not the day he would be eaten in his kitchen by a man-bear.
