The next evening, Sarah heard the familiar instruction through the bathroom door, reached for the cold brass handle, and braced herself for a devastating disc
Continue Reading »When Sarah opened the door, George was kneeling beside the bathtub with a washcloth folded into a rabbit. Emily opened her eyes and burst out laughing as he made its
floppy ears dance. Around them sat a small collection of bath toys, waiting for their turn in Grandpa’s improvised theater. Closing her eyes gave
him time to prepare each surprise. Sarah steadied herself against the doorway, then sat beside them and watched, finally understanding what her daughter had struggled to explain.
Later, away from Emily, Sarah told her father why she had been frightened. George listened, his expression growing serious. He had meant to preserve a surprise,
not teach his granddaughter to keep things from her mother. Together, they explained that Emily could always
talk about anything that happened during bath time—or anywhere else. The rabbit could stay.
The secrecy could not. George nodded and reached for his daughter’s hand.
