Carried Away

Someone likes to pretend she’s asleep in the car when we get home.

Someone likes to be carried up to bed.

Someone thinks Dad can’t tell she’s faking.

Someone thinks she’s a pretty good faker.

But Dad knows.

He knows she gets heavier every time.

He knows any day now she won’t want to be carried anymore.

Dad plays along and carries her, heavy, up all those stairs.

Every step, he wonders if this is the last time he’ll get to carry his tiny girl.

She feels like she’s getting away with it.

He feels her getting away.

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10 thoughts on “Carried Away

  1. I read this over and over trying to remember what it felt like to carry my little faker the last time. I can’t remember. Was she six? Seven? Now she’s 25 and thank goodness she’s a toucher and a hugger. I can close my eyes and remember what she felt like when she was just a little faker.

    • Luckily, my faker is just now coming into a Daddy Phase where she likes me more because she’s big enough to wrestle and be goofy with me. And those things will never go away.

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