A few weeks ago, Thatcher was all over the house like a Tasmanian Devil, casting spells, speaking gibberish and making mischief. With the flick of his wand, he cast a spell on me. I didn't think anything of it until moments later when I went to take the garbage out and came face to face with a beautiful rainbow in my back yard. As the rain fell down, I felt revived and took a picture to remember the moment.
Earlier this week, I took Boss out to relieve himself in the bushes and stumbled over a lucky horseshoe in the grass. How did that get there? Lucky incident after lucky incident has occurred in my life since the day Thatcher pointed his wand at me and shouted: "Expeliomus!" I began to marvel at the power behind his magic spell and approached him on the matter.
"Thatcher, remember when you cast a spell on me?"
"Yeah!" he giggled.
"Well, I was wondering, just exactly what kind of spell that was . . ."
"Oh," he smirked. "I was just trying to blow you up, Mom."
Well, then. So much for good luck.