There are all kinds of magic in the world

“I’m sorry my son turned you into a frog . . .” is how my daughter, Beth, recently began a text to her youngest son’s kindergarten teacher.

Let me back up a bit while you digest that. A week or so ago Beth and her kids, Emma, Jacob and Nicholas were at the craft store searching for supplies for Valentine’s Day. Nicholas decided he wanted to make a necklace for his teacher. He chose a key and some fake jewels for the necklace.

When Nicholas got home from school the next day Beth asked if Mrs. Johnson had liked the necklace. Nicholas said she did but it turned her into a frog. It seems he had made a magic necklace.

The next day Beth asked if Mrs. Johnson was still a frog. Nicholas said, “Yep.”

This went on for a couple more days before Beth asked who was teaching the class if Mrs. Johnson was a frog.

“Mo-om! She can still talk,” he replied. Then with a straight face he added, “But she says “ribbit” a lot.”

It was at this point that Beth sent her apologies to the teacher along with her heartfelt gratitude for everything she does for Nicholas and the other children under her care.

I don’t recall Emma or Jacob using magic to transform their instructors. Beth certainly didn’t exhibit any magical tendencies either so I can only conclude that Nicholas is a special being and is destined for greatness.

I don’t know if Mrs. Johnson is still a frog or not. Nicholas says that is up to the magic. I also don’t know if she knows she is a frog. If not, I’m sure Beth’s text left her wondering about Beth’s sanity.

That was not the only magical happening last week. It seems that my mom has been messing around in my flower bed. Two crocuses, one pure white and the other the color of sunshine, are blooming.

Every year Mom would ask me if my tulips were blooming. Every year I would remind her that it was only February and the temperature was in the single digits. She would be unfazed and ask again if they were blooming.

This year the tulips may not be in bloom this week but the temperatures are unseasonably warm and I have crocuses blooming. I did not plant early crocuses in that bed. The early ones are clear across the yard, out by the street. Those have yet to peek out from under last year’s debris.

Either my mom planted them under the maple tree or, gasp, maybe the evil squirrels did it. That really would be magic as the critters usually eat every bulb they dig up.

There are all kinds of magic in the world. There is the magic of a little boy who turns his teacher into a frog and the magic of his mom who plays along. There is the magic of unseasonably warm weather paired with flowers that bloom in a different time and place than expected.

Every day something happens that can’t be explained by science or faith. There is so much of the universe that we don’t understand. One thing is for sure, if Nicholas makes a necklace for me, I will think twice before accepting it. I have no intention of turning into a frog. Ribbit.