When Adam Stephens was two years old, he discovered that magic made his daddy angry.
It was a calm summer day and Samantha had taken Tabitha shopping, leaving the two men of the house alone for the afternoon. Darrin had been hoping to take advantage of this father-son time but, after an unsuccessful attempt to teach the two year old Adam how to play catch in the backyard, it was clear that the boy was in need of a good long nap.
Slightly disappointed that their bonding had to be put on hold, Darrin carried his young son upstairs, placed him down in his crib and covered him with his brand new blue blanket. It soon became apparent, however, that the toddler was not satisfied with this choice of bedding. He quickly pushed the blanket aside, tears welling in his brown eyes.
"No." He pouted, giving his father a look the conveyed the sort of stubbornness only a two year old could possess. "Blankie."
Darrin sighed, knowing that his son was referring to the tattered old blanket that he had chosen as his favourite. Last week, after the boy had dragged it through yet another muddle puddle in the yard, Darrin and Samantha had decided that it was time to replace it with a new one but, perhaps predictably, Adam had not taken to the replacement and had whined about the change almost every day since.
"Come on now." Darrin began, holding up the brand new blanket. "This one is all nice and clean- and there are no holes. It will keep you much warmer."
"No. Blankie." The toddler repeated, his eyes flicking towards the shelf where the item in question had been folded and placed. "Blankie now!"
He reached out a pudgy hand towards the desired item, causing his father to give an exasperated sigh. Sam had insisted that they keep Adam's first blanket, for its sentimental value, but Darrin was beginning to wonder if that had been a good idea. It seemed that Adam would never get to sleep while it remained in the house.
"Come on now, I ..."
The father began to plead again, but stopped in mid-sentence as he felt something brush across his shoulder. Heart leaping, he quickly turned around to see the old tattered blanket hovering behind his head.
Suspended in mid-air.
As if by magic...
He frantically looked around the room, expecting to see Samantha, or perhaps Tabitha, back from their shopping. Even the sight of Endora would have been comforting at that moment.
But there was no one else in the room, witchy or otherwise, and since Darrin was as mortal as mortal could be, that left...
"Blankie!" Adam gave a squeal of delight as the blanket bobbed playfully into his outstretched hands, ending its magical jaunt across the room. Happy, and completely unaware that anything strange had just happened, the boy hugged the item close as his father watched with wide-eyed shock.
No.
No no no no no.
Darrin could feel the sense of panic welling inside of him.
Adam...
His son...
He couldn't be a...
Darrin, despite all evidence to the contrary, simply refused to allow the thought to cross his mind. His son was normal, his son was like him, and that was how it was always going to be.
Heart pounding, the father leaned forward and pulled his son out of his crib, bringing the boy's brown eyes up to meet his own.
"No, Adam." He said firmly, the volume and power of his voice coming as a surprise to both him and his son. "No magic."
The toddler's eyes welled with tears and his father's heart sank- he hadn't meant to upset him, really, he hadn't. He was just so shaken, so overcome with a million thoughts and emotions, and his instincts had taken over.
"Adam bad?" The boy questioned, his lower lip quivering.
Darrin's voice caught in his throat, and he tried to ignore the burning feeling in his own eyes. Unable to say anything more, and unable to face his son, he placed the boy down and walked out of the room, his breaths short and ragged and his body shaking from head to toe.
He didn't know if he would ever be ready to face the truth...