For My Favorite Dad

I say, “Will you read us a night-time story?”

I know the answer is yes, but I always ask anyway.

I stand in the doorway, and I run, and I jump, and I pull my feet up really quick before the alligator bites my toes, and Vinnie copies me, and we climb into bed.

I untangle my nightgown.

I pull the gingham blanket up to our chins so we are snug as two bugs in a rug.

I wait for my sheets to feel warm.

I tell Vinnie to get Angelina Ballerina and Goodnight Moon from the bookcase, and he gets mad because he’s already cozy, but it doesn’t matter because I’m older.

I reach for Lulu under the pillow.

I hear the rocking chair squeak which means the story will begin soon, and I hope that I don’t fall asleep before the end, like last time.

I close my eyes.

I open them quickly but they close again, and I try really hard to listen because Angelina Ballerina is one of my favorites.

I fall asleep.

I wake up when everything is quiet and Vinnie’s cheeks are red, and he is picked up and moved to his room because he fell asleep too.

I see my door close and then open again.

I feel a kiss goodnight and I hear, “You’re my little princess.”

I say softly, “You’re my daddy.”