Girl Laugh
Girl and I have a complicated relationship. Not only am I not Mother or Father, I also have a nose stud she can't touch, necklaces she can't put in her mouth, and hair too short to pull. This morning she wandered into the bathroom while I was brushing my teeth and gave my Sonicare the stink eye for the full two minutes (the vibration of the toothbrush has a pitch; it takes some getting used to).
Sometimes when I come home from work and walk into the dining room, she is happy to see me. Sometimes when she sits on my lap to look at a book, she leans back against my chest, and let's me rest my cheek on her downy hair. Sometimes she is so mad I am not Mother or Father, I think she would punch me in the face if she had the strength.
But I do have a belly that's soft like a bean bag chair onto which she loves to collapse when I am lying down, and I'm willing to put necklaces on Big Dog to make her laugh.
Let's be honest: I would do just about anything to make Girl laugh.
Sometimes when I come home from work and walk into the dining room, she is happy to see me. Sometimes when she sits on my lap to look at a book, she leans back against my chest, and let's me rest my cheek on her downy hair. Sometimes she is so mad I am not Mother or Father, I think she would punch me in the face if she had the strength.
But I do have a belly that's soft like a bean bag chair onto which she loves to collapse when I am lying down, and I'm willing to put necklaces on Big Dog to make her laugh.
Let's be honest: I would do just about anything to make Girl laugh.
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