Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 29018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
“What about you, Rainne?” We redirect our attention to her. “What’s the first thing on your list?”
“A puppy.”
Fuck. Me.
We had avoided the whole pet thing so well for so long.
“That looks like more than two words,” Jaye casually acknowledges during her pointing to the page.
I squint to try to decipher her slanted squiggles. “It says, ‘I would like a Puppy just like Dune’s’.”
Rainne proudly nods at me for getting it right.
Except I wish I had gotten it wrong.
Puppies are enough on their own. Dane got his kids a mastiff puppy. No. You heard me correctly. A mastiff puppy. That damn thing is already fucking huge. And you know what? It’s probably gonna be bigger than Dane before it even turns one! Hm? Yeah. Dune Dane. Not the uh…not the best combo there, but I try not to judge.
“Okay,” Jaye states slowly, dragging the word out as if processing the possibility. “What about you, Henz?” She looks down at the nonsense collection of letters our daughter has been working on. “What is first on your list?”
“Better life for Jedd,” Henz loudly proclaims, finger running along the string of letters she’s written.
Obviously, that’s not what she’s written, however, part of the writing process is not dictating or criticizing what’s actually on the paper versus what they think is. Not at her age. It stifles creativity and can sever the simple connection to comprehension she’s established. Yeah. Learning shit like that is a not so hidden perk of having a wife that works in the early childhood education department. Added plus is that the teachers – at both academies – send out similar information on certain subjects throughout the year. What? Yeah, of course our girls go to school where their mother works. Well, Rainne’s in the afterschool program now, but she went when she was younger. And their slightly discounted tuition? Absolutely fucking explains my wife’s impressive salary.
Instinct decides my reaction without waiting for additional thought. “Who the fuck is Jedd?”
“Swear jar.” Rainne scoldingly points to me. “And because it’s the F word, that’s twice as much.”
Tightening my grip on my pen is done in hopes of keeping my composure.
Money from the swear jar is used to buy new books that we donate to reading programs, so even when we do something “bad”, we’re still doing something good. It’s a different type of penance. Funniest part about the jar is it was started to help Charles cuss less around them yet all it’s really done is help us give more to charity.
“Jedd,” Jaye slowly begins, stare locked with mine, “is the…guitar case individual that hangs out on the corner near Crack That.” Her gentle speaking encourages my shoulders to loosen. “He’s the person the girls are always giving their pictures to…remember?”
The casual reminder causes my entire demeanor to shift on a quiet. “Oh.”
Yes, I’m aware of the homeless man that my wife gives cash and that my kids are friendly to. I’ve just personally never met him. He’s never been around when we go by the store as a family, which nowadays is less than I like. And it’s also probably the reason why I don’t remember his name.
“He needs a home,” Henz innocently lists like she’s reading it off her paper. “And a bed. And food. And a guitar home. And work like my dad. And a family.” She looks up at us with a wide mouth grin. “It’s all right here. All of the words.”
Just when the ache in my chest feels as though it can’t get any deeper, Rainne chimes in, “You know what, Henz? I think I’m gonna put that on my list, too! I want Jedd to have a good Christmas.”
“The best Christmas,” Henz argues with a theatrical handwave.
My mouth mindlessly bobs in speechlessness.
“Is there um…,” Jaye struggles to precede, “is there anything else on your list, Henz?”
“Nope.” Her nonchalant answer is presented in tandem with her dropping the marker. “All done.”
The smile on my wife’s face is soft and slightly off centered. “You sure?”
“Yup!” She pushes the piece of paper towards her mother and drags her coloring book back over. “Can we have roasted marshmallows for dessert, Mom?”
“I’ll have to check the pantry,” Jaye immediately replies.
“What um…what about you, Rainne?” my gaze shifts to my oldest. “Anything you wanna put on your list other than a puppy and better life for Jedd?”
She taps her light honey cappuccino shaded chin momentarily in thought before concluding. “No. I think that’s enough.”
Bewilderment bursts though my gaze forcing me to meet my wife’s wide-eyed stare.
Seriously? What the fuck are we supposed to do with these lists?! I mean, don’t get me wrong. The fact my kids would rather give to other people than themselves is something that swells my chest with pride, but the fact the one thing they both want is one thing I can’t give them is fucking heartbreaking. Fuckkkkk. We’ve still got a few weeks until Christmas. Hopefully…they can think of something else before then. And if not? I’m not so sure what I’m gonna do.