I worked late on Wednesday night, my usual night for church.

My son had called me earlier in the day to remind me to get home before 6:30, the time the youth meets.

I knew I’d be late, so I told him to call his Daddy to make sure he got home in  time for him to eat and get to church.

When I got home, my son was there. He hadn’t gone to church, so I asked him why.

As I was talking to him my husband, who was working really hard in the kitchen, kept telling me to put the broom in the closet.

I’m sure the look I gave my husband the first time was one of disbelief. I was thinking “why are you asking me to put the broom in the closet?”

I did grab the broom, but I continued talking to my son instead of putting it away.

My husband again said more forcefully, “Put the broom in the closet.”

I was thinking to myself, “Why don’t you put the broom in the closet.”

And then I heard it.

A little giggle coming from said closet.

My sweet niece was hiding in there, waiting for me to open the door to discover her. Here she is with her scheming Uncle Scott.

I don’t remember if I ever did put the broom in the closet.