Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Never mind the other food we’ll be inundated with—steak, potatoes, corn on the cob, and salad are on the menu tonight. Nellie will eat two ears of corn, declare she’s full and is saving room for dessert. It’s the one time of year I don’t push her to eat a little bit more food before the sweets. Well, her birthday and Christmas. What’s the harm in having a couple of days a year when you get what you want for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?
“Sorry. If I don’t answer Aunt Kara, she’ll keep texting me until I respond.” My sister is what I call a repeat offender. She’ll hound you in any form necessary until you answer whatever question or statement she sends. It doesn’t matter if it’s a meme. One time, I gave her the universal thumbs-up. My sister called me a grandpa, or more accurately, she said I text like our dad. Through it all, she still kept going on about the subject until I gave her the response she wanted.
“It’s your hands.” Nellie shrugs, and I have a hard time sitting still with the chuckle threatening to leave my body. She may be seven as of today, but there’s no doubt about it—she’s older in soul than ever. A lot of that has to do with being surrounded by my parents and sister.
“By next week, you’ll be doing them again.” She looks at me with a sharpness, an attempt to convey her annoyance at what Nellie loves to do, which is our nails.
“Almost done. Once they’re dry, we can leave.” Her tongue slides out to moisten her upper lip and stays in place as she focuses on what she’s doing. I don’t mind that my hands will be a mess. It’s not like what she’s doing will last longer than a day, and after working with motor oil and grease, they’re shot to shit anyway.
“And what if that was Aunt Kara on the phone, changing plans?” Nellie plops the brush back in the container after finishing her stroke on my pinky finger. My daughter went with a bright pink alternating with a pastel purple. I told my girl to go for it today. All the other times, it’s been black, dark green, or anything else that will semi blend in when dealing with customers. Many give me weird expressions, but I don’t much care what they think, though having to explain it more than once a day gets fucking exhausting.
“Aunt Kara would never!” My sister would get a kick out of this right about now. She’d follow it up with talking about audacity this or audacity that, then Nellie would pick up on the word and do something similar. While my daughter is a pretty even mixture of her mother and me, her personality is a replica of Kara’s.
“Fine, you’re right. She didn’t say that. She did say if we don’t hurry up, all the cake will be eaten.” Our family is chompin’ at the bit to celebrate my girl. Good came from bad, and while today is a day of remembrance, having Nellie helps us weather the storm.
“Can I have your phone? I need to call her.” Have I mentioned she also carries on a conversation like a full-blown adult?
“Where’s your tablet?” I allow her free rein when it comes to calls and text messages. All the other shit, I had Jude, a buddy of mine, lock down.
“I don’t know. It’s probably dead.” Nellie puts the nail polish back in the container with the others, along with the nail clippers and emery board, waiting for my answer.”
“It’s all yours. Make sure you charge your tablet or at least bring the charger with you this time.” I watch as her dark, nearly jet-black hair falls in sheets, some in her face and some over her shoulder. My mom picks the battle of trying to get it out of Nellie’s face, which lasts all of two seconds before it’s covering her eyes again. That’s a battle I’m not fighting. Nellie girl showers, washes her hair, reluctantly eats her vegetables, and has no problem getting a later bedtime out of me. The battle I choose to fight is her brushing and flossing her teeth. The girl has a bad habit of forgetting, and one whiff of her dragon breath has me pointing in the direction of the bathroom.
“I think we should get a house phone like Mimi and Poppy.” She brings the phone closer to her, taps in the six-digit code, pulls up Kara’s contact, and foregoes bringing it to her ear. She puts it on speaker phone, and while I should be doing anything else besides sitting on my ass, there’s something about watching my daughter interact with her aunt that keeps me planted in my seat.
“Aunt Kara, don’t eat the cake without the birthday girl,” Nellie greets her aunt.