Problems

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“Can I have one Miss Valentino,” Gaby asked while looking at the cookie jar

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“Can I have one Miss Valentino,” Gaby asked while looking at the cookie jar.

“Of course sweetheart,” I said before grabbing the jar from the counter. She smiled as I opened the cookie jar and passed it to her.

“You can have as many as you want. But don't tell your mother, it's our little secret," I said and she grinned.

“And I won't tell,” she said

“Because snitches get stitches,” we both said before laughing.

“Oh shh someone's coming,” I said and she went under the table.

“Come let's hide," she whispered before disappearing under the table cloth.

I got on my knees and joined her underneath the table as the footsteps got louder. She placed her fingers on her lips and I nod.

We grinned at each other before we heard her mother's voice.

I swear this brings me back to when my parents and siblings use to play hide and seek

Or the times when Saige, Sawyer, and I would steal candies from the kitchen.

Or hide from our aunties and uncles when they told us to go to bed while they were babysitting us because our parents were out on business.

“I could have sworn I heard Miss Valentino's voice,” she said and Gaby gave me a cookie.

I smiled before taking the cookie. Soon we heard Melissa leave and we got out from under the table.

“Let's go,” I said

Gaby took a handful of cookies and gave the jar back to me. I placed the jar down and we exit the kitchen through the other door.

We went to my room and I invited her into my closet.

“You have really nice things,” she said while looking at my clothes.

She moved on to my jewelries and I catch my hair into a messy bun.

“A nine year old with great fashion sense. Mhm I like it” I smiled and she giggled.

“I want to become a princess with great fashion senses,” she said and I smiled as she rambles on about princesses.

I love these small creatures we call children

“This necklace is so pretty,” she said and I picked it up.

“Why don't you have it,” I said.

“No," she said while shaking her head.

“Why not?” I asked

“My daddy says I don't deserve pretty or nice things,” she said and my heart broke.

I can't imagine my dad saying that to me at her age.

I sometimes believe that most father's are the first heartbreakers of a person's heart.

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