Jill Briscoe writes…
Not too long ago I was babysitting one of our three, 3-year-old grandchildren. In our family, we had twins and a single birth all within 24 hours. We call them Search, Destroy, and Demolition. I was to babysit Demolition. As I waved good bye to his parents, he looked perfectly all right. We had a little story out of his favorite book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. I put him to bed and went to sleep.
In the middle of the night, I felt a little hand, and I turned on the light. I looked at Drew: chicken pox from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. “Nana,” he said, “Me’s having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Why should some things like this happen to I?”

