Don’t tell THE SECRET!

From the moment I’d arrived, every conversation was focused on making sure I did not learn THE SECRET.

By the time dinner was served, I’d figured out that THE SECRET had something to do with dessert, which, at my sister’s house, could be anything.

Opa egged his younger grandson on, keenly aware of this excited talker’s general inability to keep A SECRET.

The rest of us tried to shush the grandson. Don’t tell THE SECRET!

In the middle of one of her stories, the younger granddaughter loudly tossed in the word cheesecake.

It was random to me, apropos of nothing, but then I’d missed the first part of her story. Again.

At the same time, though, I saw her older sister scowl at her and then harrumph to their dad that THE SECRET was now out.


He merely replied, “Well, that’s why 4- and 5-year-olds don’t work for the FBI.”

Ah, I think I now knew what THE SECRET was.


And what a BEAUTIFUL SECRET it was! Yummy, too!

*tap tap tap waiting impatiently for that recipe….*


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