He had the job of getting the four of them to church, his youngest daughter and the neighbor’s two. They were all about six. Semi-controllable. Or at least controllable by a Dad “look.” However control was not necessary as the event that morning converted the children from floor surfers to complying urchins. But not Ellen.
She held center stage.
They were busy sliding on the kitchen floor in their socks; the children not the Dad. The four of them were heading to Church, his wife and eldest already having left for commitment reasons. He was on time as his coffee was still hot and had just given the “all aboard” command as the children began their final slides. Two completed their slides using the counter to brake. One did not. While hurrying her slide, Ellen’s speed had accelerated too fast and her balance was sidelined. She was not going to…
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