Aaaas a gou wwwone, Wobbad.” “I’m glad you like it. You think you might have it done by Wednesday?
I can come back and glue it on the ceiling for you then if you’d like.
David nodded, but he was already intent on the puzzle, carefully laying pieces on the table.
My father put his hand on his shoulder and said, “I’ll see you Wednesday then, okay?”
He nodded. “Will you say good-bye to Julianna?” “Baaawye,” he said,
but he didn’t look up from his box of pieces. “See you later, Uncle David.”
I tried to sound cheerful, but I didn’t feel that way.
When we got back into the truck, my dad clicked on his seat belt and said, “So.”
I just looked at him and tried to smile. “Are you as exhausted as I am?” he said.
I nodded. “Everything was fine—except for the ice cream.” Dad chuckled. “Except for the ice cream.”
Then he turned serious. “The trouble is, you never know what ‘the ice cream’ is going to be.
Sometimes it’s a fly in the room. Sometimes it’s the feel of his socks.
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