Saturdays Are For Stories

A child’s logic is an amazing thing.

It was a long day. I was tired, ready to be home with my precious quartet of ladies. I walked into the house, gave hugs, kisses as I numbly listened to the ramblings of three little ladies speaking simultaneously. Into the bedroom I walked to change in a comfortable outfit.

That is when I saw it. I stopped; the talking continued. The shadows from the setting sun concealed it a bit on the soft lavender paint behind it, but it was undeniably there – right above our headboard. Someone had been writing on my wall. All three girls stopped speaking, sensing something had just changed.

Me: Who wrote on the wall?

Ladies: Not me.

Me: Remember to not lie.

Charis (My oldest): I did.

Me: Why did you do that? You’re the oldest and know better.

Charis: Well I didn’t want you to get mad at me for going into the playroom to get a piece of paper.

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