So…Nathan and I broke our kitchen table. We knew when it happened that we would have a hard time explaining how it happened to the kids (or anyone really–still not explaining). I knew they wouldn’t be satisfied with the basic answer. So they both tag teamed me with questions.

“What happened to the table?”

“Mommy and daddy broke it.”

“How did you break it?”

“We didn’t try to.”

“What were you doing when you broke it?”

“We just broke it.”

I wasn’t sure how long I could handle the interrogation. My backup was returning “my” sewing machine. Then Noah says something cute (cuteness always helps).

“Maybe Grandma can come and fix it. Grandma can fix anything.”

She fixed that. Question avoided successfully. Ever see that plaque that is so unbiblical, but somehow it rings true: “God could not be everywhere so He created Grandmothers.”

Thanks Grandma.

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