And thus was spoke.

Kailua church. Open panels of doors along two sides, breeze blowing through. Our daughter fell asleep on me this morning, while I whispered Androcles & the Lion to her. Talked myself to dreamland too. Becca and Leanna prepared themselves at her place, the latter’s dude returned from his three-hour lower body workout. USC up seven on Notre Dame, to his disgust.

An anonymous figure informed me, as she yanked out the pigtails I had painstakingly done, "No Daddy, you do not do a good job. Mama will do piggytails in my hair."

And thus she spake, though I know I do a great job on her hair. Probably…the best?

Thus I speak, quietly, here, in the silence of a small corner on the edge of the universe, birthed in a travel journal, perhaps to wander into a quiet space on the peripheries of the virtualverse, where I can speak and spake and spoke and tell the story I want and boast without correction.

So yeah, I spake the last word and totally straightened her out. Not her hair, of course, and not her opinion of my styling talents, of course, but, you know. Deep in her heart she knows I’m super good at…something?

I hope there’s always something she thinks I’m pretty good at.