The Bad Magician


The Bad Magician

This morning when I dropped Elisha off at nursery, the assistant told me that they were already around the table for breakfast, so I should take her straight through. I did so, carrying Elisha to the main room and placing her on a small chair at the back of the table, while all the other kids gazed upward at me. It was at this point that I felt something on the back of my head.

I figured I’d maybe bumped into a paper mobile or something, and part of it had stuck in my hair. Kneeling down beside Elisha, I fanned my fingers and used them to trap whatever it was on the back of my head, bringing my hand back into view to see what was there.

“RAH!” I blurted involuntarily upon discovering a wasp, shaking my hand to free it.

This was followed immediately by a shower of cereal and milk, and then by frowned little faces – some of whom looked like they might cry.

To the assembled table of kids I guess it must have looked a lot like I’d pulled the wasp out of thin air and shouted “RAH!” as I set it upon them.

I left looking and feeling a little bit sheepish.