But the silly cars kept falling off at the curves until his father was cursing at them with impatience.
Jess wanted it to be OK. He wanted so much for his dad to be proud of his present, the way he, Jess, had been proud of the puppy.
“It's really great. Really. I just ain't got the hang of it yet.”
His face was red, and he kept shoving his hair back out of his eyes as he leaned over the plastic figure-eight track.
“Cheap junk.” His father kicked at the floor dangerously near the track. “Don't get nothing for your money these days.”
Joyce Ann was lying on her bed screaming because she had yanked the string out of her talking doll and it was no longer talking.
Brenda had her lip stuck out because Ellie had gotten a pair of panty hose in her Christmas stocking and she had only bobby socks.
Ellie wasn't helping matters, prancing around in her new hose, making a big show of helping Momma with the ham and sweet potatoes for dinner.
Lord, sometimes Ellie was as snotty as Wanda Kay Moore.
“Jesse Oliver Aarons, Jr., if you can stop playing with those fool cars long enough to milk the cow, I'd be most appreciative.
Miss Bessie don't take no holiday, even if you do.”
Jess jumped up, pleased for an excuse to leave the track which he couldn't make work to his dad's satisfaction.
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