pizza night
I’d spent the night repeatedly putting my foot in my mouth and as a result had ended up on my knees at His side while the adults carried on at the table properly.
He was holding me by my hair, gripped in His fist, tilting my head back.
“…and you didn’t even finish your piece-”
“didn’t I? I thought I – wait! Did I not finish? I thought… ok. Maybe I didn’t! I didn’t. I didn’t finish it?” the stream of panicked doubt poured out of me as I looked beseechingly up at Him. I was certain I’d had the whole piece.
Daddy shook His head, correcting me. “No, you only had half.”
“Oh! Ok. I thought – ok. I didn’t finish. I didn’t?” my eyes found his, wide as saucers as I looked for His approval. I hadn’t finished. He’s always right.
He laughed and shook his head again, this time at my stupidity. “Yes, dummy, you finished it.” He looked down at me appraisingly. “You know, I could have gaslit the absolute shit out of you just now and it would’ve been so easy.”
“I just trust you, that’s all.”
This is what I think of as Family Fun Time.