I began telling whoppers to my niece, Jamie, ever since she was five years old. I told her about little "whoopies " who lived in the garden and came out at night. The whoopies left notes on little sticks, asking for food. I explained that if their requests were fulfilled they would instill a little magic in return. In the following weeks I began to see tiny care packages left in the garden--grapes, popcorn, bits of candy and other such goodies. (I had left tiny query letters in strategic areas of the garden). Months later Jamie asked me if the whoopies would ever bestow upon her any magical abilities, after all she 'd kept up her part of the bargain. I examined one of her ears and said, "Yep, it 's already begun. Your left ear is starting to grow a point which means you 're an apprentice elf. " Many years later when I 'd lost touch of the family, I 'd returned to my sister 's house. This was during the time my niece enrolled as a freshman in High school. My sister remarked to me that day that Jamie had come home bawling her eyes out because the other girls had humiliated her in physical education class. Some girl had remarked how beautiful Jamie was, and that she had especially nice ears from which to hang earings. It was at this time that Jamie proudly confessed that she was indeed half elf, one ot Santa 's official employees, and it was rather obvious because she did, indeed, have the beginning of pointed ears. Well, they let her have it but good, taunting her, and finally chasing her out of the shower. It was a completely traumatic experience for her, having to this day, never forgiven me for such a blatant and destructive lie. I have only my story-telling talent to blame for such an adolescent stunt played on an adolescent.