I never was a believer for charm. In fact, I brushed the whole thing away with little more than a snobbish snort whenever sombody decided to bring the subject up. See, I was pretty sure that anything that presented itself as charm was nothing but a lie. A dreadful lie for that matter. Perhaps I over reacted then but there was simply nothing I could do about it. Until that particular incident...

I was walking in the play ground one beautiful Sunday afternoon totally indifferent to what was going on around me. The children's happy  noises filled with screams and laughter barely registered as I walked alone, far apart from the crowd. See, I was more happy brooding alone. Or I thought I was, Until I saw him. And what a sight he was!

He was half caked in dust as he tried to reach the ball which had fallen under one of the merry-go rounds. The strain was apparent in the way his shoes dug in the ground and in the way his hand stretched and his fingers inching frustratingly away from the ball. Nobody seemed to notice his predicament. My feet moved aganist my will and before I knew it, I was kneeling beside him, picking the ball. As he turned, I experienced a moment of panic which was quickly quenched by the one smile he flashed. In his mouth were perfect white teeth;on his right cheek, a charming dimple.

His face flushed from the afternoon heat, he took my hand and led me to the field for a game of soccer. As I looked down and smiled at him, I realised one thing; I had been charmed by a five year old. And what a Charmer!