Daddy, Do That Thing You Do Again!
The Hair Brush
I am all eager. My “My Little Pony” nightgown is still stuck to me after my bath. Mommy gave me my bath this Saturday evening. I can smell the soap mommy scrubs me with on my fingers. I am sucking my thumb. A big girl sitting in the tub, leaning forward with my head down and my eyes closed tight. Whoosh! Warm water poured down my head. The water trickles past my neck to my back. Mommy uses that funny, large pan on my hair. Everything is large to me. I’m four. I’m a big girl.
“Daddy, Daddy.” I scuttle to the living room. “Brush my hair, Daddy. Please, Daddy, please.”
“Well, of course.” Daddy says. After a few tries, I am able to sit on Daddy’s lap.
I giggle a lot. My hands in my lap. I close my eyes tight. Throw my head back. Strands smack Daddy’s whiskery face. I giggle some more. I squeak. “Come on, Daddy.”
“Okay. Mer, put your head down.”
A Brush Like The One Daddy Has
That brush. Strong bristles. So soft on my head. My hair dries and becomes softer with every stroke.
“Daddy, my favorite, Daddy, look.”
“Yes, honey. My favorite too.” Daddy smiles and continues brushing.
I sing the song.