“Boy: take this leaf from my hand.” The four year old child had not mastered the art of grace and as he reached yet again for the leaf in his master’s hand found that he had, for the second time, come up short. Tears formed in his eyes and the master took pity on him. With a softer tone, the master said, “Try again; this time might make the difference.”
“Mom, how long did it take you to learn how to curl your hair without burning your shoulder?” The girl, barely a teenager, had developed a passion for beauty. She thought that her mother had impeccable style but would never tell her so out loud.
Her mother absentmindedly touched a wisp of hair by her ear. “Let’s see. The first time I tried, I left a burn right here.” She pointed to the spot near the wisp of hair. “And the second time, here.” She pointed to her earlobe and then fell silent.
“And then?” The girl asked.
“And then, nothing.”
Astonished, the girl could do nothing but sigh, longingly. “Wow…”***
Sister and brother sat on the porch together; they’d come outside to enjoy the setting sun, not so much due to a love of nature but more thanks to the smiles and looks that were being shared between their parents in the living room. Neither could stand the fact that ma and pa still courted one another after all these years. “How many times do you think pa asked for ma’s hand before she agreed to marry him,” sister asked.
“Oh, I know the answer to that question,” brother answered. “And I can tell you where each ask happened.”
Sister was interested. “Okay, tell me.”
Brother warmed to the subject. “Well, the first time he asked ma outright and she said ‘no’ because that wasn’t the proper way to do it. Pa was kinda young and not so smart on those things. Next he went to Uncle Joe, ma’s eldest brother; pa figgered if anybody knew the right way to ask a girl to get hitched, it would be Uncle Joe because he’d gone all the way through the fifth grade in school.”
Sister whistled in appreciation of Uncle Joe’s great knowledge. “What did Uncle Joe say?”
“He told pa to go ask Grampa, and the rest of the story I guess you got.”
Okay, so it’s been a while since last I pestered the good folk over at the Daily Post. I was almost giddy when I first read the prompt and had planned to share this video as my response:
I paused just long enough to read the prompt again:
Write a piece of fiction describing the incident that gave rise to the phrase, “third time’s the charm.”
While I still think Mr. Owl’s response is the best reason for the phrase indicated, I took note of the fact that we were asked to write a fictional piece on the subject. To that end, I offer the three little vignettes above to prove (fictionally, of course) how it actually takes three to make a thing go right (no offense to Rob Base intended):