When six o’clock rolls around, Riley eagerly waits for Molly her book bag slung over her back, her thumbs hooked into the straps. I stop by the front desk to see her off, and she turns up her cheek so I can give her a kiss. “Have a good time with Ms. Molly,” I tell her.
“We’re going to have a lot of fun!” Riley says. “We’re having sketti for dinner, which is my favorite!”
Tamping down a grin, I tease, “I thought pizza was your favorite.”
Riley rolls her eyes. “It was yesterday, jeez. But today it’s sketti.”
“Spaghetti,” I correct.
Her nose wrinkles as she mimics, “Piss-sketti.”
Yeah, that sounds appetizing. Tugging playfully on her ponytail, I ask, “Are you going to be a good girl tonight?”
“Daddy, I’m always good.”
I could argue that point, too, but I don’t. Instead I wrap her int
