A Girl and her Dog. (Not.)
My daughter the Mini-Pirate came into my office the other day while I was working. She stood in the doorway, watching me while I typed. I sensed she was gauging me for… something.
“Did you spill something?” I asked without looking up from my monitor.
“No.”
“Break something? Mark up something? Burn something?”
“No.”
“Then what’s up?”
She stepped into the room and laid her hand, like a Read More...