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Rated: E · Short Story · Contest Entry · #2224313
My 3-year old grandgiggle Emily learns all about this old cliche one July day.
         I remember a gorgeous July afternoon spent in the company of my two 'grandgiggles' Sydney and Emily. The warm sunbeams caressed our darkened skin and a cooling breeze tugged at our hair. In swimsuits, we strolled along the local lakefront burying our toes in the moist sand. Glistening waves lapped at the shoreline and the horizon shimmered in the haze.
         Three-year old Emily skipped ahead of her older sister and me kicking up a mist of fine sand. Clenched in one of her tiny hands, pebbles glittered. Each one had been declared pretty and Emily vowed to take them home. As Syd and I watched, Emily stopped and crouched. Hunkered down, she studied something on the beach.
         "Ewww," Emily crowed, "poop!"
         We joined her to see her button nose scrunched and her upper lip curled. This expression transitioned to an open mouth and a wide-eyed stare that witnessed her seven-year old sibling grab a handful of the 'poop' and smear it all over her body.
         "Ewww, Syd! Nanna," gasped Em.
         Sydney scooped up another fistful and laughed. With a twinkle in her eye, she lunged at her sister.
         Screaming, "Stop it, no," Emily sprang to her feet and stumbled away.
         Shrugging her coated shoulders, Sydney pivoted and ran into the lake, splashing. I coaxed my youngest 'grandgiggle' to return with a come-here wave. I pointed at the mound she'd discovered and I knelt next to it.
         "Here Em, smell this."
         With exaggerated care, she stooped beside me and shared a raised eyebrow glance.
         "Go ahead. It won't bite."
          I offered to sniff with her on the count of three. After a quick inhale, she looked a question at me.
         
         She shook her head when I asked if the stuff smelled like poop. Oh, sure it did resemble a pile of something gross, something that should not be on a beach. It gleamed with a damp sheen and it appeared to be a grey / brown in colour.
         "Really Em, this is not poop. It's clay from the lake. Some kid must have brought it up here and played with it. It's the squishy , slippery stuff you step on when you walk in the water."
         Unconvinced, Emily chose to wade in the lake nowhere near the mystery mound.
         ( 376 words )
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2224313-All-That-Glitters-Isnt-Gold