“What do you think our little bambino is going to be when he grows up, Frank?” asks Daisy, rolling over on her side of the bed to face him.
“She,” answers Frank, staring down from her flat head into her blue/green eyes. “Our little bambino will be a she — and: ballet. As in dancer. 96.725% sure of that. Pink too to emphasize the girl part. Pink tutu. I can see her up there on stage even now, front and center and pirouetting away. Our baby girl.”
“I see him more as a background figure,” counters Daisy in more ways than one. “Still dancing and prancing some, maybe, but away from center. Someone else is front and…” She trails off. The combined caffeine and sugar high caused by the spicy pumpkin latte they shared too close to bedtime was finally starting to wear thin.
“Her,” Frank lightly corrects, but inserts it in the wrong place.”
“Yes,” she answers, again seeing the scene in her mind, the real girl up there in control.
For now. tbc
Sunklands 