Saturdays are for Stories

It was a good day for cleaning – or so Rachelle thought. Our oldest and youngest were playing a game on the couch, their legs crisscrossed, swinging in the air. Their giggles permeated the house. Naomi, our middle princess, was on the floor with her youngest cousin Grace. They too were playing a game, but one that only works if you have a “magination.” 

After picking up toys, trinkets, towels, trousers and trash from the floor Rachelle pulled out the vacuum. Plugging the vacuum in, she pushed it to the hallway to start vacuuming. It didn’t turn on. She played with the buttons, jiggled hoses, moved her head cocked to one side looking up and down for what the problem could be. Muttering to herself, scratching her head and looking half-crazed she traced the electric cord back to the outlet to find that it had come out.

 “I thought I plugged that in.” she said aloud – mostly to herself. She looked around. No one took any notice of her. Charis and Rebekah still on the couch, Grace and Naomi still on the floor – all playing. Rachelle plugged the vacuum back in and trotted backed into the hallway to vacuum.

 Click. Click. Click. Nothing. With a subtle sigh, she went back to the living room to find again the plug out of the socket. “Are any of you pulling the plug out of the wall?” All four little ladies looked up at her with a bewildered face. A myriad of “no” and “huh” assaulted her senses. “We don’t play with plugs.” She continued as she shook her index finger to the room at large. Plugging in the vacuum she made her way back to the hallway.

 Click. Click. Click. Swearing. Rachelle slightly bit her lip as her cheeks started to flush. She stomped with authority back into the living room eyeing each suspect. None took notice. There she stood above the crowd with lifeless cord in her hand like a jockey without a horse to whip. “It all seems too innocent.” She thought to herself. Standing there, looking over her dominion, she considered the evidence – honing skills that had been crafted through the rigorous training that comes with reading Nancy Drew, Sherlock Holmes and Mrs. Marple. She set the trap.

Plugging the vacuum in the wall, she left the room. Hiding behind the corner with barely an eyelash visible she saw Naomi turn to look if she was gone. Naomi got up and ran to the wall, pulling the plug out. Jumping from behind the corner Rachelle yelled “Gotcha!” Naomi jumped with surprise, a look of shock on her face. “Just what do you think you are doing?” Rachelle asked.”

Naomi burst into tears, “I don’t want you to vacuum Grace up.” Rachelle was dumbfounded. “Please, at least, pick her up!” Naomi pleaded. And so, due to the diligence of a girl who took the time to care a tragedy was thwarted and Gracie was not assaulted by a Hoover.

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