We’re Looking For Chocolate

He listened as H- dryly read, “And what was my life like? The heat burned me in the daytime. And it was so cold at night that I froze. I couldn’t-”

“Hold up, H-,” he interrupted at last. “Remember how we are focusing on reading with gusto? This is a good place to put some gusto into how you read the story.”

Partly frustrated by his broken record, partly curious, H- watched her father. His eyes widened and as he drew in a breath, his head bent back as well. Then he snapped it forward, his open hand slapping his chest.

“And what was my life like?”

H- smiled, beginning to understand.

“The heat,” he continued, feigning to wipe sweat from his brow, “burned me in the daytime.”

H- couldn’t remove her eyes.

“And it was so cold,” he began, shivering.

They both laughed.

“Or maybe it’d be better like this,” he offered. He then looked at frost-bitten fingertips which he rubbed together furiously and blew hot breath upon.

Laughing, she joined him.

“No, you should have done-” she began; then she huddled over, shivered and said, “Brrr, I’m sooo c-c-cold. Let me pour some hot chocolate.”

His laughter almost scared her.

“I don’t think they had hot chocolate back then, H-. Remember Jacob and Laban lived a long, long time ago,” he corrected, chuckling. “But you’re getting the gusto right. Good job. Now let’s keep reading.”

H-, now seven, turned back to the sacred words and promptly struggled to locate where she left off.

“We’re looking for ‘chocolate’,” he proposed, unable to resist.

H- laughed with her voice, but her eyes seemed to say something else.

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