Still Magic

I do something simple, like unlock the car using the keychain thingie. "How'd you do that?" the six-year-old asks, impressed. 

"Magic," I reply dramatically. This gets a good response, so I repeat the word several times, trying out different voices. Deep and mysterious, high and Monty Pythonesque. The audience is properly receptive. 

We're inside the car now, buckling up. As I put the car in reverse, she says very matter-of-factly, "But people can't really do magic. Nothing can." 

I blink. Is it gone already? So soon, the delicious full-time oh so willing suspension of disbelief? I know it has to happen at some point—heck, at some point, it's dangerous for it to still be hanging around. But so soon? Really? I put the car in drive and pull forward sadly. 

"Except for fairies," she adds in a duh tone of voice. "Obviously, they can."