This morning, Reilly and I ate breakfast in the kitchen. She sat on her stool and I sat on the floor next to her. If you must know, we were eating cinnamon Life cereal. Reilly likes it.
After Reilly finished her cereal, she scooted over on her stool, and then patted the empty space next to her. “Come sit next to me, daddy,” she said.
I squeezed in next to her, and then she took my arm and put it around her shoulders, resting my hand on her knee. She patted my hand lovingly.
Shawn, who was observing the whole scene while she was ironing, said, “She must not be feeling well.”
Yes, you heard her right. So odd is it for our daughter to show any affection to her father, that Shawn concluded Reilly she must be delirious from illness to display such tender behavior to me.
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