Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“And to give them the chance to participate in teaching, we’re going to let them teach all of you, the five basic ballet feet positions!”
Five?!
Five seems like a lot.
Shootouts end in three shots.
Wonder if we can make it three.
“Class,” Chelesea joyfully states, “opening position!”
“Like this, Daddy,” Bella leans comedically over the edge of her tutu to point at her slipper covered feet. “Together.”
I fight the urge to grumble, adjust my footing so that they’re parallel, and ask, “Da?”
“Da, Daddy!”
Can’t say I love the way it sounds like she said duh instead of da.
“And now first position,” her teacher announces prompting me to meet my daughter’s glowing blue gaze again.
“First, beachball arms, Daddy.” She lifts and curls her arms to show me yet immediately scolds when I try. “No.No.No.No.” Princess exaggerates her wideness. “Net! Beachball arms, Daddy! Hug a beachball, not a soccer ball!”
Hunching dramatically over gets her giggling and honestly, the sound alone is worth the pending humiliation that’s going to come from seeing hundreds of photos of me in this embarrassing display.
What can I say, though?
The best things in life are my Slayer and Hatchling laughing.
And when they’re doing it together?
I’m a fucking goner.
Doneskies.
Can’t even imagine what it’s gonna be like when we have another one someday.
But I do want another one.
And I’d bet my signing bonus that the love of my life does too.
Chapter 20
Joey
I’ve been to countless museums all around the world.
The Museo Nacional del Prado in Madrid.
The Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam.
The Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg.
Even the Mazur Sculpture Garden and Museum right on the outskirts of Bennvilla.
Each had its own amazing experience to offer but kind of pale in comparison to The Dalvegan Toy Museum.
What can I say?
I love shit I can actually touch.
Bella’s entire body crashes into Artyom’s as she giggles over his animal noises, smile stretching from pigtail to pigtail.
Plus, it’s kind of hard to beat the joy I get from watching her have the time of her life.
Once Bella stops snickering, she points to the next toy, “Chto eto, Dedu?”
He cranes his neck forward and mumbles, “Uh…”
“It’s an early version of a Lite-Brite.” Sliding my hands into the back pockets of my light pink jeans occurs at the same time I explain. “And fun fact! It is actually a member of the National Toy Hall of Fame.”
“That’s a thing?” Artyom ponders in obvious disbelief. “They actually have that for toys?”
“Toys are an important part of every culture,” I gently remind with a smile. “They’re actually a key part of developing as well as perfecting motor skills – both fine and gross – and are often socially educational in ways you probably don’t realize. For instance, playing with dolls-”
“I love my princess dolls!” Bella exclaims while reaching over for the pegs of the toy.
“-could be thought of as a way to practice nurturing skills while something like a Lite-Brite,” I kick my chin towards the object, “could be used as a way to improve dexterity that could later be used for something like…surgical tools.”
“Yarkiy i krasivyy.” An impressed hum slips free prior to him grinning. “My son is very lucky.”
“Maybe too lucky?” My head playfully tilts to one side. “Should I dial it back? Make him find a local bakery to get you that medovik for your birthday next week?”
Our shared laughter is interrupted by Bella excitedly exclaiming, “Krasnyy!”
“Ochen' khorosho, moya malen'kaya printsessa!”
“Spasibo, Dedu!”
Hearing him compliment her and knowing she understands makes the entire exchange so melt in your hot chocolate worthy I hate having to leave.
But Mr. Forty-Two needs me for something that just couldn’t wait for a non-toy museum day.
“Bella, how about you finish showing Dedu that you know all the colors while I go see Daddy for a grownup meeting?”
Her tiny nose scrunches in objection. “But it gameday.”
“It is gameday, and I’ll be home in time to put on our sweaters and write our numbers.”
“A bee shots?!”
Artyom’s cringe over the butchered word “promise” gets me giggling, “Da. Obeshchat'.”
“Why don’t we practice that word?” He quickly insists at the same time he adjusts her on his hip. “That way we can show Daddy and Nanny Joey how good you are at the barn?”
“I am good at it, Dedu…”
He winces – clearly torn about how to proceed – and tosses me a pleading stare for an assist.
“Nope, this one is all you, Dedu.”
Despite the defeated expression crossing his face, he asks, “Will you take Ig-”
“It’s already on my mental to-do list on my way out…” I shoot him a sassy wink before I begin to back up. “And so is hiding the box of Chuckles for Anna until your anniversary next month.”
“Can’t believe they have those here. I usually have to buy them online.”
“Add that to the many reasons why we should come back here.”
It’s his turn to cockily wink. “As a whole family next time.”