It’s Emilee again.
“Scort me, Dad.”, she says. “Scort me!”
Then she takes my arm and follows me wherever I was already going, her hand clutching my arm like her life depends on it and her head needingly leaning against me.
It’s a weird feeling to be both irritated and amuzed at the same time – they kind of cancel each other out. I want to be irritated but I can’t because I’m laughing – but I can’t do that either.
