Those who know us in the real world know that my Hubby is firmly grounded in conventional reality. He even once told the children that he does not believe in magic (I told them that we should feel very sorry for the sad life led by people who do not believe, which would have gone better if they had not told him how very sorry they felt for him). When we lived in a haunted house, he refused to acknowledge it. Certainly, he said, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye but that was surely due to the light playing off of the ceiling fans (All I got out of that was “OMG, he sees it too!”). It has been said that I am the Dharma to his Greg. There is more than a grain of truth in that.
All that, by way of explaining my delighted, surprise when just the other day he asked “Do you know how I know that Faeries are real?” (OMG! Did I hear that right? Is my beloved Hubby about to join me on the left side?). It seems that the night before, he had, had to go into the office to replace a jumper on an old system board. In the process he discovered that the print on the system boards was much, much smaller than it had been just ten years ago. Now a less whimsical person might have lamented the connection between age and eyes, but not the guy who has been living under my influence for 17 years. After due consideration, he feels sure that, in a fit of mischief, the Faeries have gone around and rewritten all the lettering on all the system boards.
I am sure that if you think about how much harder it is, as time passes, to read yarn labels, do cross stitch, etc., you can see that his is the only reasonable explanation