“Mom,” I said in a strained voice, “you’re not an elf.”
She just stared at me. “Oh?” she asked. “And how can you prove that?”
“No one has to prove it! Elves don’t exist!”
Mom looked puzzled. “Who told you that?”
“School!”
She sighed and shook her head.
“Can you prove that you are?” I challenged.
“Certainly.” Mom snapped her fingers. Her African violet on the windowsill exploded out of its pot and sprawled dirty roots all across the floor.
I goggled.
“Now,” Mother said, smugly, “would you like to meet the dragon who eats socks out of our dryer?”
Author’s Note: The real question is: is that dragon a pet, or an unwelcome pest they can’t get rid of? It’ll cost three socks to find out.