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Craft Week

They were not hidden well-enough this morning in the pocket of my sweatshirt.

Which was when my son asked, “what are those?”

I’d raised my eyebrows. “Those?”

And he’d pointed till his finger touched the tip of the orange Always pad peeking from my pocket.

Oh. Those.

“Those are for mommy,” I said. And I turned to wipe the counter. Depressing conversation over.

Only it wasn’t.

My son’s eyes grew large like dinner plates.  He sensed there was something more.  “What are you going to do with those?” he asked.

“Do?” I echoed.

And then he cornered me before I could respond. “Are you going to do a craft?”


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