"Mommy, there's a apple under my bed!" Gracie calls to me, running into the room.
"Well, get is out," I reply, a bit puzzled.
"I can't reach it," she starts to choke up and make raspy crying sounds. "I can't reach it Mommy!" More urgently that time.
"OK, I'm coming. Who put it there?"
Crying stops, and she says in a quiet voice, almost a whisper, "Me."
Oh kids.
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