One Little Girl Who Will Never Ask for Another Play Date at the Levitts’

One of my daughters recently had a second-grade friend of hers over to the house for a play date. My wife, Jeannette, was down on the first floor, while the two girls were up in our attic playroom. Suddenly, Jeannette heard screams of terror from the visiting friend. She ran upstairs, fearing the worst.

“What happened?” my wife asked.

The girl could barely talk. She struggled to say, “Something terrible … something terrible…”

“What terrible thing?” my wife asked.

Still hyperventilating, the little girl led my wife out of the playroom and down the hall to another room, then threw open the door. “Something terrible happened. Maybe a tornado. It is really bad. Really bad!”

The room was a disaster area, papers strewn everywhere. It looked it had been ransacked in a robbery.

“It’s okay,” my wife comforted her. “That’s just the way my husband likes his office to be.”