The girls – all three of them (or so I thought) – were upstairs playing in a safe (or so I thought), designated kids’ area. I was downstairs searching for a blasted username for an online bill payment service and also trying to register for one of those perks programs for our local office supply store that probably will never get me any perks. I heard Layla whining to come in, so I stepped away from the office and wandered to the backdoor. There I discovered not only our dog but my 18-month-old playing outside with a broken snow globe. How she managed to get the snow globe down from a high shelf in her big sisters’ bedroom I don’t even want to think about (it would have required scaling a bookcase that, thankfully, is built into the wall and could not topple over on her). How she managed not to cut herself on the shards of glass, I’ll chalk up to a very vigilant (and overworked, I’m afraid) guardian angel.
It may be time to start paying said angel overtime.
“But how do you pay a guardian angel?” my 5-year-old asked.
“With prayers. Lots of them,” I said.