Sunny

Another installment of the children's book musings in my head...

Penelope Rose and TANK have a little sister named Sunny.

“Sunny!” the front door banged open and Daddy’s briefcase thudded on the oak floor. Sunny giggled, dropped her dolly “Flower Girl” and ran with bouncing golden pig tails to Daddy who added creases to his pin striped work pants as he crouched to the ground with wide open arms.

Around TANK’s Lego metropolis, past Penelope’s homemade miniature doll house, through Scraps the floppy eared mutt who licked her face and met her half-way thinking the little one wanted to play with him, Sunny bolted as fast as her three-year-old legs would carry her toward her favorite man. She landed in Daddy’s lap and buried her face in his thigh as he patted her back and swooped her dangerously close to the entryway light fixture.

“Ready for lift off?” Daddy asked. Sunny’s shriek brought Penelope Rose and TANK to the scene. They always knew Daddy was home when they heard that sound.

“Hold on tight!” Daddy commanded. “Three, two, one,” he shouted with a deep voice that sounded like thunder. Then Daddy spun in tight, quick circles while Sunny wrapped both hands around his white work shirt collared neck. The centrifugal force made Sunny’s legs stick straight out as she screamed with equal amounts of terror and delight.

Mom took her time as she casually entered the hall from the kitchen. Of course the whole thing made her feel like she had just swallowed a whole strawberry sucker as her heart leapt to the back of her throat, but she pretended that her flying child and “free-spirited” husband were completely normal and didn’t bother her at all.

“How was your day, Sweetie?” She asked mid-spin, as if the sight before her eyes were a mere illusion.

“We’re going for round seven!” bellowed Daddy. The question from his wife went unanswered for the moment given the feat at hand.

“Sunny, can you see me?” asked TANK as he waved his arms like a monkey, crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

“I don’t think she can see anything,” Penelope answered for her sister. “She’s probably so dizzy that the whole room is just one fuzzy band of colors.”

“Honey, let’s stop there for tonight, eh?” Mommy pleaded with a slight twinge in her cheek.

She thought Sunny had begun to look the color of TANK’s tree frog Ole’ Looker.

But Daddy didn’t head Mommy’s caution.

“Oh no, Baby! We’re going for a record tonight! Round Eight!” Daddy roared. Sunny squeezed her eyes shut and squealed to a decibel hitherto unknown in the King house.

“Round nine! Here we go!” Daddy’s hair brushed his eyelashes and two sweat beads formed on his focused brow. His eyes foretold imminent victory as they reflected the sunset which streamed through the still open door.

“Round ten!” He boomed. Scraps’ whole body quivered with excitement as his black ear flopped over his left eye and his right white ear stood pointed.

“We did it!” Daddy trumpeted. He whisked Sunny to the ground and jumped up on the hall bench. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he announced, “A new record has been set in the King household. Sunny is the first intrepid flyer to ever make it at the tender age of three years and two weeks old to round ten of Daddy Lift Off!”

Possible “intrepid” definitions flashed for nanoseconds through TANK’s brain before he cheered, “Don don don, don da don da don!” TANK picked his drum sticks up off the bench next to Daddy’s foot to match the beat proclaimed from his lips.

Penelope found a purple silk ribbon from Sunny’s doll basket in the living room and danced it through the air as she led the parade. TANK marched next, banging one drum stick against his red toy block. Then, Daddy hoisted Sunny on his shoulders as Mommy slipped her arm under her husband’s and smiled with relief next to the heroes.

Scraps took up the rear hoping that perhaps the parade participants would throw him doggie treats like hard candies from floats to children on the street.