The Wish

A dwarf stood at the foot of my bed, holding Mother Goose’s Fairy Tales book in his left hand. He thumped its spine with his right fist and Play Doh crumbs fell out.  

“You called for us?” he asked. I rubbed my eyes warily. Another lucid dream. No big deal. Last night it was Prince Charming. This morning, Doc, his spectacles judging me for mismatched bedsheets. 

 “I did? I just read the book to Evan.” He cleared his throat. The others lined up. “You said our names, pointing to each of us, so we came.” 

I sighed. “Don’t I do that every night?” He shrugged. “Beats us. We just come when we are called. Name’s Daggus. Not Doc, as you wrongly assumed. Let’s begin.” He pointed to an upturned basket of laundry. One by one, the dwarfs dispersed. When the vacuum started, I jumped. Nobody ever vacuumed in these parts. Ever. 

 A frowning dwarf served me a steaming cup of tea. “Why, thank you,” I mumbled, wondering how to address the men arranged pyramid style in the hallway, scrubbing crayon off the wall. A dwarf in a blue tunic with a neatly trimmed goatee nodded toward my pile of unread books. “Name’s Halred. Not fond of housework, but I love a good book. Do you mind?” 

I bit my tongue. This was usually my time to sit and read a chapter before Evan demanded I read to him, but since I was getting free housecleaning, I didn’t cuss him out.  “Knock yourself out. But first, have you seen my son? He’s usually up by now.”  He pointed to my bedroom. “He is on page 37 of the good book.” 

I whipped around and headed back to bed, this time certain I was dreaming, but Hal beat me to it. He opened the book to “Rock a bye Baby.” Beneath the verse, my son slept in the cradle that usually has a Kewpie like babe dozing peacefully in it. No matter how much I shook the book and cried his name, he would not stir. I screamed. 

Daggus came running from the bathroom, up to his elbows in yellow gloves and soap scum. “What is it? Is Halred being indolent?” 

“No, no, no!” I yelled. “My son is trapped in this book. Get him out!” 

Daggus touched the cradle as if to rock it, then patted my hand. “It is okay, missus. He is only sleeping while we work. Don’t you know the rules of the good book?” 

“Uh, you read it, and everybody stays put? It’s just fairy tales?” 

He snorted, then blushed. “Excuse my manners. You must feel alarmed. We assumed you knew. Rules of the good book are as follows. One: honor the Brothers Grimm as if they are your mother and father. Two: say what you mean and mean what you say. Three: if one is called out of a book, another must take his or her place.” 

I started crying. I had called the dwarfs by name, but I did that every night. How was last night any different? It was the wish, wasn’t it? Tired, I had wished that I might get away from Evan for a while. Little did I know in my need for some alone time that I had wished my baby away. 

“Does the rule say what you mean and mean what you say apply to thoughts?” I asked.  

 “Well, whatever I think, I hear it in my head, feel it in my bones. Don’t you?” 

He had a point, but I did not wish Evan would become a nursery rhyme. I just wanted a break. I checked on him again. He was curled up in the cradle with a smile on his face. The dwarves had already made breakfast and scrubbed the tub. Maybe a day alone would help. I could call Evan back when I was refreshed, and the apartment would be spotless. 

 “Sorry, Daggus. I was lost in my own fairy tale. Yes, I feel it in my bones, too. If I just leave the book open here, will you watch him? I am leaving to run errands.” 

Daggus nodded. “Halred can babysit. I can fetch whatever you need.” He pulled a scroll out of his pocket, ready to take down my shopping list. 

“Oh, that’s not what I meant to say. By errands, I mean pedicure and a massage. Things I’d like to do alone if that’s okay.” 

He chuckled. “You don’t have to ask for my permission. You called us, and we serve, no questions asked.” He peered outside to my overgrown balcony. “May I garden?” 

 “Sure. Now, please do not disturb me. I won’t be gone but a few hours.” 

“Yes, my lady.”  I locked the door and drew a hot bath. As I soaked, I could not stop worrying. I felt guilty that Evan was confined to a dingy page in a book just so I could have me time. Why can’t I have both? 

A gruff wail pierced the silence. “Hey! You kicked me, you little troll! Wait until I tell the missus, you...” I scrambled to dry off and throw on the nearest sweatpants and top, Evan’s voice ringing in my ears. “Mommy!  Mommy, save me! Go away, mean daddy baby!” I threw on my clothes and opened the door. Evan sat with the book in his lap. “Look, mommy! Daddy baby.” 

 “Let me see, sweetheart.”  There on page thirty-seven, Halred bawled in the cradle, a goose egg on his forehead.  

I scooped up my child before he could be spirited away again. “Oh dear. That is a dwarf. See his hat?” I pointed but stopped myself before I stupidly broke rule three again. I called out instead, “Uh, dear manservants? Are you there?”  

My son shouted, “No more! All gone. No more dwarves.”  He tapped the page. I smiled. “That’s right. Dwarves! Let me see.”   

Only their cottage, nestled between rows of cabbages, carrots, and peas, remained. A well-meaning princess was in crisis and needed them, so they had to skedaddle. “Hmm. All gone. How about muffins for breakfast? Do you know the muffin man who lives on Drury Lane?” 

He clapped along with my singing. I stashed the “good book” in the top of my closet, just in case once upon a time in the future, I wanted to live happily ever after. I changed the first diaper of the day, washed and dressed Evan, strapped on our shoes, and we headed out.  

Evan pointed at the sky as he usually does. I mumbled and returned to my phone, then felt regret. He longed to call whatever he saw into existence. Why discourage him? I picked him up. “What is it?” He jabbed at the sky. “Dark, mommy. Nighttime.” It started sprinkling. Do I avoid wet clothes or a tantrum over no muffins? A voice responded, say what you mean. Mean what you say.  “Not nighttime. Cloudy. It means it will rain.” I pulled up his hood. We toddled along in the rain together toward the muffin shop, and instead of wishing for an umbrella or a prince to save me, I smiled at Evan and held his hand tighter.