Page 30 of Santa’s Little Faker
“Yes, everyone gets colors and needs to say how they’re feeling.” I remembered the first part but the second was probably my weakness. “How are you feeling?”
“’Cited.” His happy dance wiggles seemed to be wearing him out because he tried to hide a yawn. “’Wake.”
Awake, huh?
“Then let’s go see what I’ve got because I’m excited too.” And a confusing mix of other things I wasn’t sure we needed to go into. “Very excited.”
Yep, that was my story and I was sticking to it.
Chapter 9
Orlando
Stuff.
Stuff.
Green.
Green.
Stuff.
Stuff.
Green.
Green.
“’Cited.” Yes. Not sleepy. No sleepies. “’Cited.”
“Excited, yes.” Daddy Bastian was trying not to smile and looked silly. “But if you get nervous or upset, what do you say?”
“My colors.” Swinging Daddy Bastian’s hand, I nodded bigger and bigger. “I got colors. You got colors.”
“That’s right.” Daddy Bastian squeezed my hand. “And I know to use them if I get nervous or upset.”
Everybody got colors.
Everybody got ’motions.
“Good boy.” I was a good boy and Daddy Bastian was a good boy too. “Good boy.”
Daddy Bastian nodded but he got distracted. “Okay, up on the bed or in the chair?”
“Bed.” Run. Run. Run. Jump. “Big bed.”
Daddy Bastian had a big, big bed and squishy pillows and was soft, soft.
“Bounce.” Flop. “Fish.”
Daddy Bastian laughed. “You look like a dead fish flopping around on the ground.”
Yep.
Fishy lips.
Daddy Bastian laughed. “I can’t decide if that’s funny or creepy.”
