The King Flies In

He flies into the living room, sans robe and crown. He does not need them. We know who he is. Flings off his shoes, throwing them in two opposite corners. Starts howling because the socks are too tight again. I offer to help. NO! I can DO It MYSELF! In seconds he is in grandpa’s office, poking around in the worst place possible Under the desk where the pliers, box cutters, electrical tape, and hammers are. I hear him poking around down there. “What are you doing?” The poking noises stop. He has found something. In a couple of seconds he comes out carrying a glass jar full of money. Grandpa’s coin jar. He promptly dumps it on the living room floor. My husband and I stand back, grinning from chin to hairline. “Which one of us is going to go get that glass jar?” I ask. Grandpa says, “Not me, I’m the favorite.” I sneak up stealthily, So as to not Disturb the king.