She keeps popping in and out as I work at my desk. Every few words I have to stop typing to see what she needs. Her tiny flashlight that’s blue and not pink. A Beanie Baby kitty that sits among my books. Paper from my printer to draw a green robot.
Finally, she bounces in wearing totally different clothes and shoes.
“Why did you change your clothes?” I’m amazed she’s such a quick-change artist.
“I want to look beautifo.”
“You know where you look really beautiful?”
She eyes me expectantly.
“In your chair watching Sponge-Bob.”
She sucks in her breath and runs.
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