Doggone Daughters

My dear darling daughters were planning some sort of mischief! I could sense it.

For days there had been conspiratorial whispering and half suppressed giggles coming from their bedrooms as they darted between them, often clutching sheets of paper. Although they were four years apart in ages, one being ten and the other six, they were the best of friends and shared many common characteristics. The older one was quiet but had a great sense of humour, while her little sister was simply mischief looking for somewhere to happen. Mealtimes were never dull with their talking and chattering throughout the meals.

Came the weekend so I started to wash the car while the girls went to play in the cubbyhouse which I had made for them. One step led to the small door and the windows were covered with louvred shutters. The roof had false shingles cut from strips of overlapping marine ply and the whole little house was painted in bright Spanish-colours. I’d even managed to find an old-fashioned mortise lock for the door so that they could lock away their treasures during the days when they weren’t at home. They each had a large key and I was surprised to hear the key turn in the lock when they closed the door.

Inside the cubby I could hear giggles and the scraping of furniture as they did their house-cleaning, then there was complete silence for a while till there was a call, "Dad," from the older daughter, followed by "Daddy, come over here," from the younger one.

I went over and tried to open the door, but found it locked. Wanting to find out what was going on, I bent down and peered through the large keyhole, only to find myself looking at a most unexpected sight. The little devils had manoeuvred their blackboard easel inside the door and placed one of their favourite stories so that it blocked any inquisitive glances and all I could see was a group of dogs playing cards.

"Come around to the window, Dad, and close your eyes," I was instructed, so round to the window I went and closed my eyes, wondering what new surprise they’d present.

I heard the catches being undone and then the call, "Taadaa! Open your eyes!" There, strung across the cubbyhouse, was a banner made from numerous small sheets of paper glued to form a long strip. Printed in multi-coloured capital letters was the message, "HAPPY BRITHDAY DEAR DARLING DADDY".

Their table had been pulled over to the window and on it was an iced chocolate cake with a lone candle waiting to be lit and four glasses of orange cordial arranged around it. Then they began so sing "Happy Birthday" joined by their mother who had crept down behind me while I had my eyes shut.

My girls had conspired to spring a real surprise on their dad.