This Calls for a Note to the Fairy Supervisor

For a moment there it looked as if we were going to have to send a strongly worded note to the Fairy Supervisor complaining about slipshod service from the fairies under her guidance.

From time to time, Sparkle Girl writes a note to the fairies. She leaves it in a special jar by the fence. During the night, the fairies come. They pick up their note, and, as a little thank-you, leave behind a gift for Sparkle Girl. Once, for instance, they left a jewel made of yellow glass.

On the day before Thanksgiving, Sparkle Girl and a friend each wrote a note to the fairies and left them in the special jar.

When Sparkle Girl went out on Thanksgiving Day to see what the fairies left, she found the notes still in the jar.

What happened? she wondered.

Perhaps fairies take the night off in honor of Thanksgiving?

As disappointed as Sparkle Girl was, that explanation made sense to her.

On the day after Thanksgiving, she looked again. The notes were still there. No question about it, we said, the fairies were definitely taking a couple of days off for Thanksgiving.

When the notes were still there on Saturday morning, though, we were as dismayed as Sparkle Girl. If the fairies didn't pick up the notes that night, we said, we were definitely going to send a note of protest to the Fairy Supervisor.

I am happy to report that proved not to be necessary. On Sunday morning, Sparkle Girl looked out the living room window and spotted purplishness in the jar. After so much disappointment, she was hesitant to believe that the fairies had indeed come and feared that the notes had just taken on a purplish hue after sitting out there so long.

But, no, the notes to the fairies were gone and in their places were two tiny packages wrapped in purple tissue paper held closed with transparent tape.

As happy as she was to find the packages, Sparkle Girl was troubled.

"Do fairies use tape?" Sparkle Girl asked.

We readily agreed that transparent tape did seem awfully unfairy-like. But the packages were from the fairies and the tape was right there. So, ipso facto, fairies must use transparent tape.

Sparkle Girl readily acknowledged the point.

We may drop a line to the Fairy Supervisor, though, letting her know about Sparkle Girl's experience and suggesting that her fairies stick to tying packages with the far more fairly-like satin ribbon.

Mr. Mixer

It had dipped below freezing during the night. So, when I came upon His Dogness's water bowl in the front yard at Sparkle Girl, Doobins and Garnet's, the water inside was covered with a glaze of ice.

The pattern was especially beautiful so I took it inside to show everyone.

Garnet and Doobins were sitting on the couch. When I handed the bowl to Doobins, he looked at the ice for a moment then lifted his hand, poised for attack.

"Don't do that," I said. "I want to show it to Sparkle Girl."

He didn't even pause.

Poke. Poke. The beautiful ice pattern was gone forever.

"He's a boy," Garnet said.

As if on cue, Doobins said, "I like to break things."

Because I'm a boy and I not only like to break things but also to stir things up, I sometimes deliberately mispronounce Garnet's name.

It's supposed to be pronounced so that it rhymes with "darn it." Pronouncing it "Garnette" gets a rise out of her more often than not.

This I did later in the morning.

I was in the kitchen and Garnet and Sparkle Girl were reclining on the aforementioned couch in the living room. I called into the other room, "Is there anything I can do for you, Garnette?"

She didn't say anything so I just figured she wasn't taking the bait this time.

Later, I learned that Sparkle Girl had leaned over and whispered in Garnet's ear, "Tell him, yes, he can stop calling you Garnette."

Garnet said, "Nah, I'm not going to say that."

"Go on, tell him to stop calling you Garnette," said Sparkle Girl.

Still nothing.

So Sparkle Girl stood up, stuck her head in the doorway to the kitchen and said, "You can stop calling her Garnette."

Then she went back to Garnet and said, "See how easy that was."

Dex Dangerous to the Rescue

Let me just come out and say it, "I am a 54-year-old man who likes to spend time on the Webkinz Web site."

For those of unfamiliar with Webkinz, let me provide a bit of background. You go into your authorized Webkinz dealer and pick out a stuffed animal - beagle, tiger, monkey, gorilla, panda, polar bear - that looks as if it should cost no more than 6 bucks but that costs $12.99.

You take it to the counter, hand your check card to the clerk, take your new "pet" home, go to your computer and type in the secret code that comes with it. This enables you and your new pet to become part of the Webkinz world for a year.

Your pet comes with the basics, a modest home and decent health. After that, you have to earn money to buy food to keep your pet well-fed and to add such extras as art to the walls of the home and a garden to go out and play in.

You can earn the money a variety of ways, one of which is to play games.

Standing on the outside, I thought that Webkinz was yet another racket.

I have since seen the light.

A year ago, Sparkle Girl's friend, Sue R., gave her a Webkinz dog. For weeks after Garnet helped Sparkle Girl set up her dog's new home, I ignored the whole thing. Then, one day, while I was washing dishes and Garnet was presumably doing other useful things, I took a break to check in.

And what did I find?

I found Garnet at the computer playing a Webkinz game called Cash Cow 2 in which you match colored dots and zap them in hopes of earning enough milk to make it to the next level.

Before long, I, too, was playing Cash Cow 2 and its equally engaging predecessor Cash Cow.

Some of the more sophisticated games that I have been exposed to in my admittedly limited video-game experience just made me anxious, either because they were too complicated to easily get comfortable with or because of the content.

With the Webkinz games, it's easy to master the basics and the content is gentle. Well, for the most part. It is true that, in one a game, one character tries to whack another as far as he can with a club. But the whackee seems to enjoy his flight and makes a funny sound when he lands.

Anway, when it came to the video-game universe, I had found the place where I was supposed to be - a Web site designed for 5-year-olds.

In the past few months, Doobins, who turned 5 in October, has learned a great deal about how computers and Web sites work just by having fun on the site.

So, when I saw that our subscription to the site would come to an end if we didn't take action by buying another Webkinz to extend our access for another year, there was nothing for it but for all of us to climb in the car and head over to the Hallmark store to buy another pet.

When we got there, we found that all of the Webkinz were in a locked display case. One of the clerks asked whether we would like for her to unlock the case and open the doors so that we could get a better look.

Please.

When she showed no sign of leaving, I said that it might take a while for Sparkle Girl and Doobins to make their collective decision.

As long as the case was open, she said, she had to remain with us. I had no idea that Webkinz kidnappings were such a danger.

They picked a Siberian husky, which they named Jack.

A few days later we were back. Now that Doobins is old enough to fully join Sparkle Girl in the Webkinz universe, it became clear that sharing a pet was better in theory than in reality.

The monkey's name is George.

Doobins has introduced me to a new game in which Dex Dangerous protects his planet by flying his spaceship around and zapping all the planet-eating pigs.

I plan to head out on my next mission with Dex momentarily.

So far I haven't been able to make it beyong Level 6.

Wish me luck!

Perchance to Dream

Doobins is welcome to stick his tongue out at me when he's playing but sticking out his tongue when he means it is absolutely prohibited.

So, when he scowled and stuck his tongue out at me in earnest, I told him that he better run because I was coming after him. I know that looks bad in print but, if you had been there, you would know that he knew that no harm would come to him.

But, in keeping with the spirit of our altercation, run he did.

Watching him bolt was pretty amusing.

I wasn't all that annoyed in the first place and him high-tailing it washed away just about all of the rest of the irritation. But feeling the need to make sure that he knew he wasn't getting away with anything, I followed him to his bedroom.

In hopes of entertaining developments, Sparkle Girl followed me.

When we arrived, we found Mr. Doobins in his bed under the covers, pretending to be asleep.

"Ah, it's Sleeping Beauty," I said.

"More like Sleeping Moody," Sparkle Girl said.

I laughed. Mr. Doobins smiled and opened his eyes.

Friends again.