The ballerina fairy took a flight of fancy down the midsummer’s moonbeam. Releasing pixie dust and baby’s laughter, as she slid down the light in tiny toe shoe clad feet. Dressed in an iridescent tutu, her hair pinned softly back, she felt honored to be given such an important task. Her jete’s perfect as she flitted back and forth and forth and back over the sleeping princess, of course even the teeniest ballerina would have perfect jetes if she had wings.
All night long she danced and flew until it was finally done. The mimsy, that flimy misery, which had held the heart of the princess by the slimmest of chains, hurt wrapped in thorns, was removed. The gentle smile that crossed her face as she slept proof was proof enough that she was now free.
In the morning the little girl awakened her mother. Their giggles could be heard down the hall. Later as she washed her face and looked in the mirror she smiled at herself for the first time in a long time. The sadness somehow had been lifted in the night and she caught herself humming an unfamiliar melody that made her think of dancing, and she did her own jete as she made her way up the hall. She headed to the kitchen to make butterfly pancakes and laugh again with her baby girl. The ballerina fairy looked on from behind the bedroom mirror. Tired but happy, her work here, for now, was done.