A is for Agape
Small Visitors of the Creepy Crawly Kind
And then today, as I stood blow drying my hair, innocently unaware that my daughter had popped into my bathroom, I felt a tap on my leg. I turned around to see a little outstretched hand, the tiniest, sweetest sight to any mother, and in it a roly-poly, wiggling with all it’s might. And on my daughter’s face not just a smile but a beam. Without a trace of guile, she stood there showing me her prize. I hid my own surprise, though it had finally come after all these years, in the form on a little girl in pink. And I will now be inspecting all her small pockets for visitors.