On being an incorrigible daddy's girl
My papa fell asleep on my shoulder watching "O Brother Where Art Thou," and when the credits started rolling, I nudged him awake.
"Dude. You can't stay here. You snore."
He sniffed. "I have never heard me snore."
"Seriously, I am not a pillow."
He got to his feet, yanking the white blanket out from under me and tossing it over his shoulder.
"Aw," I said. "Are you taking your blankie and going home?"
In his sock feet, blanket held across his chest and swaying behind him, Daddy strode imperiously to the back of the house. He passed Mom coming through the kitchen door, and without slowing, he informed her solemnly: "I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him."
And then he disappeared into their bedroom.
"Dude. You can't stay here. You snore."
He sniffed. "I have never heard me snore."
"Seriously, I am not a pillow."
He got to his feet, yanking the white blanket out from under me and tossing it over his shoulder.
"Aw," I said. "Are you taking your blankie and going home?"
In his sock feet, blanket held across his chest and swaying behind him, Daddy strode imperiously to the back of the house. He passed Mom coming through the kitchen door, and without slowing, he informed her solemnly: "I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him."
And then he disappeared into their bedroom.