There’s a new hat, and it’s all business around here, for about twenty seconds. She stands over by the tree, and manages not to laugh. I say, “Stand here, look there, eyes up, chin down.” All serious, you know. She’s trying so hard to keep a straight face, her forehead creases with the effort. Then I say, “Smile a little. Not that much,” and that’s it.
These are my favorite ones. She can’t help smiling. When she was little, she had a tutu and and a homemade paper crown, and she went around as the Happiness Fairy, and not for Halloween, but just, you know, on a regular Tuesday. I’d be stomping all over, hollering about somebody’s shoes in the middle of the floor, and just then she’d come twirling in whistling on an ocarina, a big piece of pink silk tied around her head with a lanyard, and saying, “I’m the Happiness Fairy!” Bam, just like that. Smiles. It’s her superpower.
Doesn’t she just look like the most awesome hipster angel in that slouchy scrap hat? Everything looks good on her.