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Never Again


One Sunday I was entertained in a farm home of a member of a rural 
church. The intelligence and unusually good behavior of the only 
child in the home, a little four-year-old boy, impressed me.

Then I discovered one reason for the child's charm. The mother was
at the kitchen sink, washing the intricate parts of the cream 
separator when the little boy came to her with a magazine.

"Mother," he asked, "what is this man in the picture doing?"

To my surprise she dried her hands, sat down on a chair, and taking 
the boy in her lap, she spent the next few minutes answering his questions.

After the child had left, I commented on her having interrupted her 
chores to answer the boy's question, saying, "Most mothers wouldn't have"

"I expect to be washing cream separators for the rest of my life," 
she told me, "but never again will my son ask me that question."

Author Unknown


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