If she was a squealer, I wouldn't do it, because then she would definitely wake Mam. I'm singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star," another Head Start hit, and throwing Kayla up in the air, almost to the high ceiling, before catching her. Pot and comes into the living room, I can hardly breathe and my arms are burning.
So I sing it low enough that I won't wake Mam, my voice dipping and cracking and grating, but Kayla swings her arms and marches around the room anyway. I remember that one from Head Start: sometimes the local nuns would visit the school, acoustic guitars slung over their backs like hunting rifles, and play for us. Like I love to hear Pop tell stories, she loves to hear me sing. "What you want me to sing?" I ask, even though she never tells me.
When she's done, Kayla drops her sippy cup on the floor.
0 kommentar(er)
