From the get go, he had always been a precocious child.
When young, his father had been much the same. He had spent a lifetime dabbling in the mystic arts. He always hoped the boy would follow in his footsteps. Although very bright, the boy had quietened down a lot after his rabbit died. It was buried in the garden. They seemed to have had a special bond and the loss was obviously taking its toll. His parents had offered to get a replacement; anything he wanted they said. It made no difference; at the time he just wouldn’t be consoled. That’s why it was good to see how much brighter he seemed that evening.
His father watched him get down from the table, he said, “Don’t you want dessert, son?”
The boy said, “No. I need to get back to my book.”
“Yes, your mother told me about that; any good?”
“I would have to say it’s most enlightening. I managed to morph myself into a moth before tea.”
“Well, that‘s something, I must say.”
“Yes, indeed. I’m going to try another one now, and I don’t want to be disturbed.” With that, he went to his room and closed the door.
His father raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Where’d he get this spell book, anyway?”
His wife started to clear away the plates. “Jumble sale”.
“Really?”
“Yes. We called in after school. Didn’t cost much, and it’s really big; huge actually.”
“Not sure I approve at his age. Meddling with that stuff can be dangerous before you’re ready for it.”
His wife sighed and shook her head.
A little later they sat watching television when strange sounds came from the boy’s room. The father said, “I’ll go.”
When he opened the door he found a large, fluffy rabbit, gnawing and scratching at the carpet. “I guessed as much’, he said. “You’d rather be a rabbit, right?”
The animal nodded.
He returned to the lounge and said to his wife, “He’s turned himself into a rabbit. I think he’s hungry.”
He just knew she’d start screaming.