I walked around the room with a rubber duck in my hand. I laid it in plain sight on a shelf of the book case. It’s classic yellow face and orange bill pointed to the door where my daughter would skip through in a few seconds.
I smiled in anticipation.
“Heidi,” I called, “Come find the ducky.”
Her eyes sparkled when she came into the room. They went straight to the bookcase where she had last placed the duck. Too young to be in a long hunt, but ripe for its excitement, she loved an easy game. A flicker of confusion puckered her brows. The bright yellow didn’t sit on the second shelf, left side. She turned to look at me. Two shelves above, dead center, the little fellow waited. All at once her eyes landed on him.
“There it is!” she squealed.
Her arms stretched above and her fingers scratched the air. Her shiny brown hair danced. I reached up, plucked it off the shelf and put it into her waiting hands.
Hidden things are usually delightful surprises when children are small, but it doesn’t take long before our wonderful innocents discover the deceit of covering up something they should not.
Our middle daughter hid a trove of unwanted smashed green peas under her dinner plate. Our youngest daughter hid…
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