“We’re angels, really.”
My youngest daughter likes to be naughty – she’s declared it dozens of times.
The other night was no exception.
At the dinner table, the seven-year-old took a plastic water bottle, leaned over, put it under her bum and made a fart sound. Then she pulled up the bottle to display it to us.
“That’s disgusting,” I said. [continue reading…]
“Yeah, well, mornings are not my thing.”
I served my youngest daughter two pieces of toast, and she looked at her breakfast with tired eyes and said, “I’m not eating.”
“Ah, but you’ve got to eat breakfast,” I said.
“No!” the seven-year-old shouted. [continue reading…]
“Hey, I’m the funny one! Got it?”
A friend of mine had my two daughters over for a sleepover, and she reported back about how wonderful they had been, and then told me all sorts of stories about their time together.
I smiled. Immensely.
Then I told the girls, ages seven and twelve, how so very well behaved my friend had said they had been, and how proud that made me feel as a father. [continue reading…]