Hiding God's word

Amy comes bounding into the kitchen.
"Mommy!" She gasps. "Michael is bothering me. I'm trying to read my BIBLE and he won't stop disturbing me." She races out of the kitchen again, and I hear doors slamming.
Soon Michael wonders into the kitchen, looking a bit dejected.
"Mommy, Amy has hidden her Bible and I want to read it too!"
"I'm sorry," I say half-heartedly.
Obviously mommy isn't too sympathetic so he saunters out, and is soon satisfied lining up his trucks and cars. I continue cooking, glad for the quiet and wondering where Amy did hide her Bible as I'll probably be having to help her find it (she often forgets where she's sequestered her treasures).
Later that afternoon, I'm cleaning the guest bathroom and there I find the Bible. It's wedged at an awkward angle behind the toilet--definitely not a place Michael is likely too look. I retrieve it, dust off the cover, and return it to the living room.  Glad Amy is hiding God's word, but maybe next time I can help her hide it in her heart instead of behind the commode...