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Tears dripped down her face as her foot burned and throbbed. Without thinking about it, she threw back her head and yelled. “Daddy! Daddy!”

“Baby girl, what happened?” Macca crouched beside her, looking concerned. It was the first time he’d called her baby girl all day and her heart grew lighter.

“A w-wasp s-stung me,” she managed to get out through her heaving breaths.

“Oh, sweet pea. That must hurt. Let’s get you inside and put a cool cloth on it,” he crooned to her.

“H-hurts, Daddy.”

“Daddy will make it all right, baby girl,” he promised as he lifted her in his arms. “That naughty wasp. I’ll give it a stern talking-to.”

“I-I think I k-killed it,” she cried dramatically.

“Sh, baby. You’re gonna make yourself sick crying like that.”

Was it selfish of her to want his attention? To want her daddy back when he’d been absent all day? Probably. She was supposed to be taking care of him, after all. But looking at the way his face had lightened, she wondered if this wasn’t exactly what he needed.

He walked with her into the living room and set her down on the couch, placing her foot on the coffee table. She pulled it back.

“D-daddy, I not supposed to put my f-foot on the c-coffee table.” Her breath was still heaving in and out of her lungs, tears streaming down her face. No doubt she looked a mess. She reached up to wipe under her nose.

Macca caught her hand, giving it a light tap. “We don’t wipe our nose like that, little one.” He grabbed a tissue and then picked her foot back up, placing it down on the coffee table once more. “And you can put your foot here, just for now. Your poor feet have been through the wars. Blow.”

He held the tissue to her nose and she blew into it loudly then scrunched up her nose. “Yucky.”

“Let’s get you an ice pack for your foot.”

“And Bunnykins and Kiki,” she said quickly.

“All right, baby girl. Good idea.” He ran his hand gently over her head.

Her foot hurt something fierce and she sniffled to herself miserably until he returned with her two stuffed toys and an ice pack wrapped in a towel.

“Hm, might be best if you lie on your tummy on the couch, sweet pea, and I’ll put this on the bottom of your foot,” he told her.

She rolled around onto her tummy, and he laid the ice pack on her sore foot. Instantly the burn started to ease.

“Better, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said with a smile.

He leaned in and kissed her cheek before sitting on the coffee table. “Now, you want to tell me what you were doing walking around outside in bare feet?” he asked in a stern voice.

“Oh, um, I like walking in the grass in bare feet.”

“Which isn’t very safe, is it? And I thought I’d made it clear that you were to put on shoes before walking or running around outside.”

Oh, shoot. He had said that. She was in trouble. She stuck out her lower lip. “You wouldn’t punish me when I’ve got a sore foot would you, Daddy?”

“Well, luckily, your foot is far away from your bottom, isn’t it?” He patted her bottom lightly.

“Daddy, that’s no fair!”

“You knew the rule.”

Her stomach, the traitor, took that moment to grumble. Macca frowned and glanced at his watch. “Did you eat lunch?”

“Um, I think I had something to eat after the funeral.”


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