Page 81 of Santa’s Little Faker
“Lord.” Daddy was naughty but looked up at the sky to say sorry to God and Santa. “That’s okay. I will remember what you’re allergic to.”
“’Cause you’re my Daddy.” I knew it. I was Santa’s good helper. “You take care of me.”
Daddy got his worry face on. “But I can only take good care of you if you—”
“No playing pretend.” I gave Daddy another kiss to distract him. “No pretend for me and no pretend for Daddy.”
Ha.
“Yes, no pretending I’m not your Daddy.” Cuddling me tighter, he made our special chair go back and forth. “It’s going to be much easier to keep my eye on you now.”
Naughty spy and naughty helper.
We matched.
“You’re my good Daddy.”
Smart Daddy.
Hmm.
“How did you know, Daddy?”
Daddy grinned.
Naughty Daddy.
“You didn’t have any of the presents you talked about in your house and you left the receipt for the flowers on the kitchen table.” Daddy shook his head and gave me a silly smile. “It just took me a while to realize what I saw.”
Pretending to frown, Daddy huffed. “I should’ve realized there was something wrong with it right off the bat, but I wasn’t expecting you to be so mischievous.”
Oh.
Shoot.
I’d do better next time.
“I don’t like that look, Trippy.” Daddy narrowed his eyes and gave me a Daddy face. “We’re going to have good communication, remember?”
Maybe.
Cheek kisses for the win.
Ha.
He sighed.
“Less chaos than your family is my line in the sand.” Daddy wanted to cross his arms and pout but he had to hold me. “My limit, Trippy.”
“Yes, Daddy.” I could promise that. “Less chaos. Got it.”
That was easy…they were big naughty most of the time.
“Good communication.” Hmm. Wiggle. Wiggle. “We talked, Daddy, and you saved me.”
That was important and special and very nice.
Daddy groaned.
