Magical Ned-ture

Ned's particular form of magic is unusual to say the least. He was born to a long line of dragonblood sorcerers, and indeed inherited the dragonblood from his father, but while he can tap into this source of magic, he couldn't accumulate it in any quantity without using a focusing object to direct it into, and he was never able to shape it into a spell. It was almost as if the magic Ned was tapping into couldn't, or didn't WANT to be shaped by a typical spell matrix. It was only after yet another fruitless magic lesson did Ned finally have a breakthrough, of sorts...
 
"AGAIN!" shouted the tutor "focus on the orb!"
Neodym Winterclaw brought the small crystal orb up to eye level and stared at it intensely. His blood tingled as the magical energy flowed into the orb and started to glow with a prismatic white light.
"Shape the magic! Just like your hand!"
Neodym held his other hand up, open, next to the orb and opened and closed it into a fist a few times. The light in the orb danced slightly, then with a flash, was gone. He slumped down.
"Enough..." the tutor sighed "how can you call yourself a mage when you can't even cast mage hand? We're done for today."
As the tutor got up and left, Neodym, still on his knees, brought the orb back up again, his blood tingled as he filled it with energy. He focused on the orb, on the magic inside the orb, trying to bend it to his will, to make it do... anything. The light within the orb danced, almost like it was mocking him and his inability to affect it. Neodym glared and hurled the still glowing orb across the room.
He watched as the orb skipped on the floor leaving a small shower of sparks and then landed neatly in the back of a toy horse drawn cart. The light in the orb seemed to form tendrils to where it touched the cart, and the toy glowed briefly and began to move. The horse began to hop on stiff legs, the wheels on the cart turned as the cart rolled forward. Neodym thought he could even hear the creaking of the wheels. The cart blindly rolled forward a few feet, towards the wall of his room. Neodym stared in awe as the toy rolled, getting up too late to catch it before it hit the wall. As the horse ran head first in the wall it let out an distinct whinny, stopping Neodym in his tracks. He knelt down and watched as the horse and cart continued to helplessly hop and roll into the wall. Just a moment later, the light in the orb faded completely, and the cart became still and quiet once again.
 
"MAMA! DADA!" Neodym ran through his home to the common room where his parents were. "I made a magic! Look!" He held the toy cart in his hands and filled it with magical energy, then placed it on the floor and beamed with pride as it rolled forward.
His father watched for a moment then huffed under his breath, "whelp" and walked off.
His mother forced a simile and knelt down beside him. "Sweetclaw, you don't 'make a magic' you cast a spell, and that's," she gestures at the cart rolling across the room, "that's not a spell, that's a toy."
Neodym's face fell at her words.
"Now, go pick it up. You can try again for real when the tutor comes back tomorrow."
"Yes, mama" Neodym skulked over to pick up the cart, and then trod back to his room. Over his shoulder he heard his parents talking.
 
"He'll learn, I'm sure of it."
"He better"