Sunday, July 22, 2018

Cranky at Dinner

Katie pokes her head in the door. “You’re not napping?” she exclaims in faux outrage.

I sheepishly take off my headphones, and over the tinny sound of bass, high hat, and snare rattling from the cans, start to explain, but she brushes me aside.

“If I put you down for a nap and you don’t nap, you might get cranky at dinner!” she says, as if she is pretending to be stern.

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