“There are many things history has gotten wrong about us,” the father told his son on his eighth birthday, “and we like it that way.”

“What did they get wrong?”

“Well, for starters, they think we can’t have children of our own.” He looked at his son and smiled. “Hmm, let’s see, what else…um, we don’t like garlic, don’t have a reflection, most of us have no manners or hygiene.”

They boy laughed. “I love pepper and garlic on my pizza, and I don’t think the girls would like me if I didn’t have good hygiene.”

The boy’s mother came into the room carrying a large birthday cake with eight candles on it. “Make a wish,” she said.

The boy closed his eyes, made a wish, and blew out the candles. “Can we go now? Please?”

His parents looked at each and grinned. He was so much more prepared then…

“Tell me a bedtime story, Mommy. Please?”

The boy’s mother smiled and grabbed a book off a shelf in his bookcase as he climbed under the covers and giggled.

“Let’s see,” his mother said, settling in the rocking chair near his bed. “What shall we read tonight?”

“A fairy tale.”

“Okay, a fairy tale.”

She scanned the table of contents and found a short fairy tale, and started reading.

“Once upon a time, in a magical land, there lived a family of witches. Hazel and Merlin worked as court jesters and their daughter, Elizabeth, was about your age. She loved to run through the lavender fields down to frog’s pond where she would spend all day talking and playing with the frogs and toads that lived down there. The witch family were not wicked witches; in fact, they were quite a nice family, but they were treated as outcasts just…