Day 3,497—End of Day—

At the end of the day, I find myself reading a book to my daughter. She always picks so many books for me to read, but it was late, so I told her she could just pick one, which of course ended up making it more difficult for her to fall asleep.

         She kept saying, “Dada, sing to me.”

When she was a baby, I would sing to her every day, “Vivian, she is my baby. She lives in a house and eats beans daily. Vivian, she is a good girl. . .”

 

Now, she is four and still wants me to sing to her, but I couldn’t remember any songs to sing, yet I still sang something, and no matter what I sang, she always kept asking me, “Dada sing to me.”