I never cared for Mary Poppins telling Mr. Bank’s children that when the wind changes she would know when to leave. I also much preferred a magical Fairy Godmother that could turn my rags to silk, place glass slippers on my feet, and tell me that I need to go and enjoy the ball.
However, I better remember my curfew, or else everything around me will turn into the mess just like the day after Halloween–smashed pumpkins on the doorstep, toilet paper in the trees and that loving Fairy Godmother suddenly appears to be the disgruntled parent ready to pounce and hand down a sentencing. After all, the vandalism (which is never confused with modern art) had to have been done by friends.
Over the last 10 years I have been in a hunt for my Fairy Godmother and I want to let her know this; Prince Charming wasn’t a prince, my kids…
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