Sunday at church, I was busily getting things arranged on a table in the breezeway, one which I actually dragged out and set up. Usually I never mess with the long tables, for fear of aggravating my back, but this time I had to do it myself. No men were around yet.
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Anyway, I heard shuffling behind me and turned to see Suzanne with her two kids, heading into the fellowship hall. It seems that poor Daniel had troubles with his shirt sticking to his chest. The villain? Syrup! Suzanne had often told me the smell of syrup reminded her of Timmy, because when he'd come into Sunday school and hugged her, he smelled of syrup! That child loved his pancakes and waffles, as does Daniel. She knew this information would trigger memories, which it did, but fond ones. Suzanne commented that Daniel does many things which remind her of Timmy (Daniel is the boy who was found sleeping with the knives in his bed!). Oh dear!
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