In Love With Death's Daughter

Our Day

Delilah's P.O.V.

          I wake up to a light tapping on my door. I just groan and roll over, shoving my face into  my pillow.

        "What?" I ask sleepily.

        "Have you forgotten, Del?" I hear my dad's deep voice softly flowing from my bedroom's door he just opened a bit.

        "Wha--?" I start to ask, then remember. It's the First Saturday of November. Every year we have a daddy/daughter day. "Right!" I say with a big smile and sit up.

        "You totally forgot." He laughs, and I throw my extra pillow at him. He dodges, (barely, might I add?).

        "I did not. I just woke up, what do you expect? Anyways, I'm going to get dressed then I'll join you in the kitchen, yes?" I ask, and he nods, then leaves.

        I jump out of bed, and throw on a simple outfit, and skip out to the kitchen (Collecting my pillow and tossing it onto my bed on the way, of course).

          I find my dad by the stove, stirring what smells like green onion and celery eggs.

            "That was record time!" He exclaims, looking at me with a fake shocked look.

        "Oh ha ha." I say, sitting down at the kitchen island.

        "No seriously, I only have the eggs mostly cooked, and it's only six o' two!" He says, pointing to the clock.

        "I've done six o' one before." I say, twirling my fork on the empty space in front of me. Dad just laughs, surprised that I'd even think that, or something.

        "No, Del, no you haven't!" He says, still laughing as he stirs our eggs some more.

        "I know. I just wanted to see what you'd say." I say, and laugh with him.

        "Uhuh. I'm sure." He says, rolling his eyes.

        "It's true." I laugh as he divides our eggs onto two plates and hands me mine.

        "Bon Appetit!" He says and I just laugh at him as I stab my fork into the steaming pile of eggs.

        "Cheers." I say, holding up my forkful of eggs.

        "Cheers." He replies, much less enthusiastically.

        "Thank you for learning that argument is futile."

         "Yeah yeah. Eat your eggs, missy!" He says, whipping his dish towel in my direction.

        "Fine, fine!" I laugh. I love our day.   ~~~~~~~~

        "We're here!" My dad announces as he pulls in a parking spot right by the shore of the river.

        "I have a few things to say..." I say nervously, and my dad looks at me curiously.

        "Oh?" He asks.

        "Yeah. One, why do we do this every year?" I ask with a groan, "And two, Last year I almost froze my feet off. Do I have to do this?" 

        "What, you don't want to have our contest? Come on, it's warmer this year than last year. So roll up your pant legs to just above your knees and join me by the edge." My dad says with a mischievous smile, before bounding out of the car towards the frigid water. 

        This part is kind of funny, and the rest of the day is totally worth it. I did almost freeze my feet off last year, though. We went to the emergency room and everything. Plus, I love beating him at this.