I Tried to Keep the Past Buried But My Grandson Dug Up the Truth Over Pancakes — Story of the Day

Mornings at my home were seldom serene—sounds of footsteps, the buzzing notifications from Veronica’s phone, and the unmistakable crash of Bugsy the cat toppling objects. On that day, I heard a shout.

“Mother!” Father! “Scooter has disappeared!”

Mia’s voice resonated throughout the house in a frenzy.

Veronica, partially awake, narrowed her eyes at her. “What do you mean by gone?” “It’s premature for your spiritual visions.”

Mia burst in, panicked. “I entered his room to get water—his notebook remains, but he is absent.”

Greg, in a daze, murmured, “Most likely engaging in detective games.”

“Absolutely not,” Mia insisted. “His notebook is here.” “He always stays with it.”

That drew my focus. Greg trailed behind me into the kitchen while I enjoyed my coffee. “I spotted him yesterday evening, dashing down the corridors,” I mentioned. “The home is secure.” He’s simply concealed in some location. He won’t turn down pancakes.

Error. Breakfast arrived and departed, yet no Scooter.

By midday, disorder prevailed. Greg rummaged through closets, Mia grumbled about “astral planes,” and even Veronica, finally setting her phone aside, participated in the hunt.

I went outside to get some fresh air, and then I noticed it—a small opening in the fence I hadn’t repaired, the one I left ajar for Bugsy to explore. My heart dropped.

I was aware of Scooter’s location.

Sure! Please provide the text you would like me to paraphrase.

Going to see Harold was a hassle. The man was unbearable. Constantly wielding his chainsaw or applying chemicals in his garden. Still, I spotted him—relaxing on his porch with Scooter, enjoying pancakes and tea.

“Kick scooter!” I growled, my anger surging.

“Grandma Vivi!” he smiled widely.

“He’s meant to have breakfast with us, not a…” I struggled to find the words, “a random person.”

Harold grinned. “Unknown person?” “Vivi, when will you reveal the truth to them?”

Theo became still. “What?” “Another enigma?”

“Negative.” “Word,” I whispered to Harold. He grinned, unfazed, and I pulled Scooter back over the fence.

Sure! Please provide the text you’d like me to paraphrase, and I’ll help you with that.

“I can’t believe Harold carried”