Stump The Dummy

She was off in her corner, by her dollhouse and playing some such game of make believe.  He figured there was a monster involved.  There was always a monster.

“Ahhhh!  A monster!” she said, running to where he was in the kitchen.  “A monster daddy!  Help!  Help Strawberry Shortcake and Lemon Meringue!  Help daddy!”

“You know I’m cooking H-.  Can I help later?” he asked her.

“Okay,” she said, her shoulders slumping.  “Can I look?  Can I see what you’re cooking?”

“Sure- watch it, watch it!  You’ll knock the utensil off the counter if you’re not careful,” he warned.

“Me tensil?” she asked.

“No, utensil,” he replied.

“Me tensil?” she pressed harder.

“Yoo-tensil,” he answered in kind.

“Me tensil?” she said with uncommon determination.

“No.  Yoo-ten,” he stopped.

“Yoo-,” he stopped again.

“Yoo-,” he was embarrased.

“The spoon.”

Victory at last.

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