Amie (4) brought me the antique doorknob from her bedroom door.  “Papa, my door is broked.”  I took the knob from her hands, acquired a screw driver and headed to their room.  The screw which held the knob on the shaft was missing and I couldn’t find it on the floor anywhere.

“Does anyone know where the screw to the knob is?” I asked with little hope of a positive answer.  John (3) came over.  “John, do you know where the screw is?”


“Where is it?” I asked.


Wait a minute…I suddenly recalled not long before John telling me something fairly incoherent about something falling and him putting it in the trash.  “John, did you put the screw in the trash?”


Oh bother.  After clarifying that he knew what he was saying and him maintaining that he did indeed throw it in the trash, I carefully removed each item, one by one, from the trash.  There at the bottom was a tiny antique screw.

The doorknob has been reattached.


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