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bella keeps a dream journal.
most mornings you'll find her in bed, freshly woken, leaning on her pillow and furiously scribbling in a spiral bound notebook. if you walk in, she'll sharply hold her hand up so you don't talk to her. once you nod your understanding, the hand darts back to the page and continues its mad dash.
the other morning while i was showering, bella came into to go pee. she started telling me about her dream.
BELLA
i had this babysitter. and she was hot. and then a second babysitter came and she was also hot.
TROY
are you saying hot like hot-pretty or hot-sweaty?
BELLA
hot-pretty.
TROY
ok. that's what i thought.
BELLA
well, then they got into a catfight over who was supposed to babysit me. and, oh, they were wearing swimsuits.
i don't want to say this dream was wasted on bella, but seriously, in a just universe, the ten year old girl doesn't get this dream, her father does.
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