You gave love a band-aid

“Da,” Corey said, clambering into Keenan’s lap with her doll. “Lovey has an ouch.”

Keenan frown at the doll. It was just a small chip in the hard vinyl of the leg. To Corey’s eyes, it would look just like a scratch. “Well,” he said, a faint smile touching his lips. “Let’s see what I can do for that.”

He reached into one pocket and then the other. A moment later, he fished out a tiny bandaid, like you might use on a finger. He pulled the wrapper off and placed the bandaid over the doll’s wound. “There,” he said.

Corey giggled and clambered down from his lap again. “Thank you, Da,” she called, as she scampered back to her playing.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

“What are you gonna do when the bandaid doesn’t make her better?” Perry asked, his brows furrowing. When Keenan gave him a questioning look, he said, “Love’s just a doll, Da. Dolls don’t get better from bandaids.”

“How do you know?” Keenan replied. Perry was just young enough that the question gave him pause.

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