“Sure you are.” I kneel down beside her and tickle her. “You’re my chocolate pudding.”
She laughs harder, which fills my heart with joy.
“How was school today?”
“Okay.”
“What did you do?”
She scrunches up her nose. “Don’t remember.”
“Did you do phonics?”
She nods.
“Handwriting?”
She pushes the quilt down so I can see her curled-lip look of disgust.
I chuckle. “I’ll take that as a yes. Did you do numbers?”
“We used number lines.”
“That’s great. Will you show me how to use a number line?”
“Okay.”
I lean down and kiss her head.
“How was big school, Daddy?”
“It was fun.”
“What didyoudo?”
“I don’t remember.”
She squeals with laughter. “Silly, Daddy! What did you do?”
“I taught some lessons, and I told parents how great their kids were. Now you need to get some sleep.”
“But I’m not tired.”
I raise my eyebrows as she yawns.
“You’re not tired?”
“Not even a little bit.” She yawns again. “Read me a story, Daddy.Please?”
“Didn’t Archie or Blake read you one when they put you to bed?”
“Yes, but I wantyouto read me a story.” She points to her bookcase, which is practically groaning from the weight of dozens of board books.
I stand and grab one of her favourite books and then sit on the edge of her bed and read it to her. Before I get to the end, she’s asleep, snoring softly. I finish it anyway before kissing her and making sure she’s tucked in. Then I put the book back and slip away, closing the door as softly as I can.
Stomach rumbling, I go downstairs into our combined living space. I’d prefer separate rooms like we had growing up. Having the kitchen, dining room, and lounge as one long room isn’t ideal, but it’s what we’ve got, so I have to put up with it.
“There’s food in the fridge,” Archie says. “Thirty minutes in the oven on medium heat should warm it up nicely for you.”
