When I was little I believed in fairy tales. I believed that if I could just find freaking Tinkerbelle I would be able to visit the Peter Pan and the lost boys in Neverland. They, of course, would let me be the first girl in the lost boys clubhouse.
I used to lay in bed every night imagining the adventures we would have. I would line up all my stuffed animals and have long in-depth conversations. I lived in my imagination and went to sleep sure I would wake up covered in fairy dust.
Then I became a teen and the dust slowly dissipated. As an adult that fairy dust all but disappeared.
Until I had Abby. Who I put to bed and say goodnight. Then once I leave the room, I listen as she sets up her dolls and stuffed animals and whispers to them about all the adventures they will be having tonight.
How would you finish a sentence that begins: