Different

"Momma," Selah hollered. "I can't find my flip-flops!"

"Just look for them, " I answered. Busy preparing dinner, I couldn't hop to the attention Selah has come to expect.

"Where are they," she continued to whine.

I looked across the open expanse of kitchen to living room to entryway. They were tossed beneath her red Radio Flyer wagon parked by the front door.

"Try under your wagon," I suggested.

She wiggled across the room, spotted the shoes and cheered. "See, I knew you could find them! Your brain is different. Your brain is different from mine."