Two-four-five minutes

The middle of the night.

Daughter (from her bedroom): Papa? Papa? PAPA!

Papa (half asleep): Huh?

Daughter: When is it going to be morning?

Papa: Don’t worry; you’ll know when it happens.

Daughter: How long?

Papa: Two-four-five minutes.

Daughter: Okay.

They both go back to sleep.

The end.

Published by Mink

The amazing writer, husband, father, traveler, and in general a uniquely amazing person named Jared Mink.

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