Saturday morning. Alice is helping me hang a shelf in the bedroom.
"Okay," I say, lining the drill up to the dot we penciled on the wall. "Don't pull the trigger until I say."
"Okay," she says. Her expression is serious.
I hold the drill in place. "Alright," I say. "Go for it."
The motor whirrs. Alice keeps the trigger depressed until I've pushed the bit into the wall and pulled it out again. She's done this before.
She brings her mouth to within two inches of the hole, purses her lips, and releases a sharp breath of air. A puff of dust escapes. All clean.
"You do that, Daddy," she says. "That's a Daddy thing."
"That's funny," I say. "That's exactly what I think every time I do that. Just like my daddy."
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