“Uh, hi Dad,” Violet said, and before I could interrupt she
continued, “I know it’s late and I’m supposed to be in bed, I have to tell you
one last thing.”
Violet-- just like all eight year olds, I imagine--is famous
for stretching the bedtime deadline with her “one last things.”
I sigh and say, “What is it?”
“Well, you know how I like to burrow into my bed, right?”
she starts. I nod.
“Well, I burrowed way into my covers and it started to
smell. It smelled like socks and sausages.”
I could see the punchline coming. She could barely contain
herself. “So my bed smells like sock-sages,” she said with a fit of giggles.
Before I could ask why her bed smells this way, she said “OK.
That’s it. Good night.” Her mission of sharing this critical information
completed, off to bed she went.
