When I was little, I loved reading the morning newspaper at my grandparents' house over peanut butter toast and cocoa.
I most especially loved reading the comics, or as I called them, the funny papers.
These stories are from the lil' dude's funny papers.
Last night, her and the Dad were shooting hoops on her basket downstairs. I was in the laundry room.
Up, I heard her request, pointing to the barstools.
The Dad gave her a lift, hoisting her belly-up. Bartender! he said in his most Lloyd Christmas voice from Dumb & Dumber.
The lil' dude giggled, and said, milk!
This morning it was dark and cold. I went into wake the lil' dude, opening her curtains and shades, getting her outfit ready for the day, rearranging her animals she pitched out of her crib in the night.
She snored on.
I brushed the blond bangs out of her eyes, and whispered to her.
She snored on.
I scooped her warm body up and kissed her neck and ears.
Bed, she whispered, her eyes shut tight. Bed. Please, Mama, bed?
A girl after my own heart.
She eventually woke up and discovered her joys in the day. Daddy! Beagle! NaNa! Barrette! Milk! Shirt! Socks! Everything was really, really exciting to her. She happily shouted out each item, taking a joyful inventory of her surroundings.
She scampered down the stairs to the entryway, grabbed her shoes and hoodie, and sat on the stairs for help. I got her readied-up, then looked her in the eye. "Are you ready to rock, lil' dude?"
I laughed all the way to work.