Hello all, once again. This is Child's Play Three. You'll need to read the
first two to understand this one. It's back and forth between the end of
the second and during them both. As I have said before, I do not own
anything but a turquoise Cavalier, so please do not sue me, I am but a poor
Canadian saving up her tips for a laptop. Dark Angel, Logan, Max etc, are
owned by James Cameron, Charles Eglee and FOX, the little blue donkey is,
of course, Eeyore, and owned by Disney. McKenzie is my own little creation.
Hope you like this third and probably final chapter of Child's Play. Enjoy!
~egbkid.
He sat all alone in the living room, a small, blue stuffed donkey in his hands. Well, not so stuffed anymore, after all, it was almost twelve years old. Pretty good lifespan for a toy owned by a child. It's right ear stitched on, the tail all raggedy, and one eye falling off. But still loved. Still loved by a child who was now almost an adult. He remembered the day he gave the donkey to his daughter, so many years ago. She had adored it, her whole life centered around the little blue donkey. He started to remember that day more clearly.
~~
He watched her from the doorway of her bedroom, jumping on her bed, oblivious to him and everything else around her except for the calendar that hung on the wall. Turning as she jumped, she saw him there. "It's my Birthday, Daddy!" she shouted.
"Is it, baby?" he asked.
"Yup, look!" She stopped jumping and pointed to the calendar, exactly at the big red circle that they had put on it earlier in the month, and then started jumping again.
"Well, so it is. Are you going to go to your party in your PJ's?" she stopped jumping once again, surprised.
"I'm having a party?"
"Yup, and everyone is coming, Rory, Bling, Matt, I even invited Brittany." She jumped and landed sitting on the bed, arms crossed.
"Brittany's mean, Daddy. I don't want her at my party."
"Well, I guess we can't have a party, then, because if I un-invite Brittany, then I have to un-invite everyone else."
"But she's mean to me!"
"Well, Brittany's nine, all nine year olds are mean."
"Rory's nine, an' he's not mean." He smiled at her argument. She was a smart child, just like her mother.
"Well, maybe nine year olds are only mean to family. But Brittany is our cousin, so we have to invite her to the party."
"Alright." She stood up and started jumping on the bed again. To stop her, he focused her on something else, the party.
"So, where's your dress?" She stopped jumping and crawled off the bed, running towards the closet.
"Where it belongs, in th' closet. But it's real wrinkly." He took a look at the dress, she was right, and he hated ironing. She was highly advanced for her three years, at least at a five year olds level, maybe…
"Hey, baby, do you want to learn how to iron?"
She shook her head slowly, with a glance knowing what he was up to. "No, Daddy."
He sighed, picked up her and the dress and went down the hall to the kitchen. "We'll iron it after breakfast, but since it's your birthday, you get to pick what we eat. What would you like for breakfast?"
"Anything?"
"Yup, anything at all that you want, we'll have." He knew that this idea was a mistake once the words were out of his mouth, but it was to late now.
"I want…" She put a finger to her chin, thinking. "Ice cream sundaes! With lots a bananas, an' nuts, chocolate sauce, car~mel, and a cherry on top!"
"You forgot something."
"What?" she asked, thinking.
"The ice cream, can't make sundaes without ice cream!"
"Oh! Do we have ice cream, Daddy?" He checked the freezer. There was a quart of vanilla. He also found everything else she wanted, except for the cherries.
"I guess we'll have to go without cherries, is that alright?"
"Ya, I guess it will be ok." They made the sundaes together, and then ate them. He was done his first, so he decided to give her his gift early. As she finished up her sundae, he went to get the brightly wrapped package from his bedroom.
She excitedly unwrapped it while he did the dishes, she finally got into it when his back was turned, but he heard the reaction.
"Daddy, I LOVE him! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" It was a blue donkey, he turned and saw her holding it in both arms, it was a little big for her, but she didn't mind. She stumbled over to him with it in her arms, he picked her up and they hugged, the toy in between. He then set her down, remembering the party; he turned to the dress, which still hung in the doorway, just as wrinkly as before. He sighed and went to get it.
'I hate ironing.' He thought.
~~
~egbkid.
He sat all alone in the living room, a small, blue stuffed donkey in his hands. Well, not so stuffed anymore, after all, it was almost twelve years old. Pretty good lifespan for a toy owned by a child. It's right ear stitched on, the tail all raggedy, and one eye falling off. But still loved. Still loved by a child who was now almost an adult. He remembered the day he gave the donkey to his daughter, so many years ago. She had adored it, her whole life centered around the little blue donkey. He started to remember that day more clearly.
~~
He watched her from the doorway of her bedroom, jumping on her bed, oblivious to him and everything else around her except for the calendar that hung on the wall. Turning as she jumped, she saw him there. "It's my Birthday, Daddy!" she shouted.
"Is it, baby?" he asked.
"Yup, look!" She stopped jumping and pointed to the calendar, exactly at the big red circle that they had put on it earlier in the month, and then started jumping again.
"Well, so it is. Are you going to go to your party in your PJ's?" she stopped jumping once again, surprised.
"I'm having a party?"
"Yup, and everyone is coming, Rory, Bling, Matt, I even invited Brittany." She jumped and landed sitting on the bed, arms crossed.
"Brittany's mean, Daddy. I don't want her at my party."
"Well, I guess we can't have a party, then, because if I un-invite Brittany, then I have to un-invite everyone else."
"But she's mean to me!"
"Well, Brittany's nine, all nine year olds are mean."
"Rory's nine, an' he's not mean." He smiled at her argument. She was a smart child, just like her mother.
"Well, maybe nine year olds are only mean to family. But Brittany is our cousin, so we have to invite her to the party."
"Alright." She stood up and started jumping on the bed again. To stop her, he focused her on something else, the party.
"So, where's your dress?" She stopped jumping and crawled off the bed, running towards the closet.
"Where it belongs, in th' closet. But it's real wrinkly." He took a look at the dress, she was right, and he hated ironing. She was highly advanced for her three years, at least at a five year olds level, maybe…
"Hey, baby, do you want to learn how to iron?"
She shook her head slowly, with a glance knowing what he was up to. "No, Daddy."
He sighed, picked up her and the dress and went down the hall to the kitchen. "We'll iron it after breakfast, but since it's your birthday, you get to pick what we eat. What would you like for breakfast?"
"Anything?"
"Yup, anything at all that you want, we'll have." He knew that this idea was a mistake once the words were out of his mouth, but it was to late now.
"I want…" She put a finger to her chin, thinking. "Ice cream sundaes! With lots a bananas, an' nuts, chocolate sauce, car~mel, and a cherry on top!"
"You forgot something."
"What?" she asked, thinking.
"The ice cream, can't make sundaes without ice cream!"
"Oh! Do we have ice cream, Daddy?" He checked the freezer. There was a quart of vanilla. He also found everything else she wanted, except for the cherries.
"I guess we'll have to go without cherries, is that alright?"
"Ya, I guess it will be ok." They made the sundaes together, and then ate them. He was done his first, so he decided to give her his gift early. As she finished up her sundae, he went to get the brightly wrapped package from his bedroom.
She excitedly unwrapped it while he did the dishes, she finally got into it when his back was turned, but he heard the reaction.
"Daddy, I LOVE him! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" It was a blue donkey, he turned and saw her holding it in both arms, it was a little big for her, but she didn't mind. She stumbled over to him with it in her arms, he picked her up and they hugged, the toy in between. He then set her down, remembering the party; he turned to the dress, which still hung in the doorway, just as wrinkly as before. He sighed and went to get it.
'I hate ironing.' He thought.
~~