I stepped into the living room to see my five year old grandson standing before the end table, hands clasped behind his back. He was examining, from a safe distance, a forbidding looking 6 inch pewter dragon.
“Do you know what that is? I asked him. It was Jackie’s first time in my house. I had not seen him since before his first birthday.
He nodded, “A dragon. He’s scary.” He looked up at me, his face solemn.
“Do you think so? Not all dragons are scary. What about Puff and Elliott?”
The boy turned and smiled at me. “I like Elliott, he’s funny.” He turned back to tentatively touch a finger to its wing. “Where did you get it?”
“On one of my trips to China.”
I started to tell him but he quickly lost patience and I realized that I needed some grandpa practice.
“Can I hold it?”
I reached over and placed it in the crook of his arm. “Don’t drop it on your toes,” I warned.
“It’s not too heavy,” he assured me, fingers carefully testing its fangs and horns. He crouched to walk it across the carpet. “Can I play with it?”
“Well, it’s not really a toy. We should put it back.” I reached down and picked it up. His face was disappointed as he looked about the barren room, not a toy in sight.
I needed to save the day. “Have you ever heard the song Puff the Magic Dragon?”
Jackie brightened and looked up at me. “No, but you could maybe sing it to me.” ©
This post was submitted to Sunday Photo Fiction.