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Points for Honesty

“I’ll just taste one,” my husband said.

Which was when I swooped to the kitchen for the broken cookie I’d separated from the rest.

Only it wasn’t there.  Just an empty cooling rack looking useless on the counter.

I called to the living room.  “Did, uh, somebody eat the cookie that was here a moment ago?

“It wasn’t me,” my daughter said.

My son’s face fell, and his eyes looked left then right.

I narrowed the search.  “Did you eat the cookie from the counter?” I asked him.

Without a word, my son jogged toward me in slippery socks, cupped my ear with both his hands and whispered, “I think so.”


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