A frantic mother was searching the gallery for her lost daughter. She was about to call a gallery guard when she saw her daughter sitting, staring at a driftwood sculpture of a horse.
“Sweetheart, mummy was worried. You should have stayed with me.”
“…but this horse is beautiful. I’m wishing she was real.”
“Wishing won’t make it happen. It’s not real.”
“Daddy always tells me if I dream and believe, I’ll achieve so I’m wishing she was real.”
Mummy sat with her daughter and listened to her whisper, “I believe.”
Her daughter pointed to the horse now becoming real, “See.”
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