Sophie drew pictures of pink winged fish at the kitchen table while I cooked her quesadilla on the comal I'd stolen from my brother. He never used it and didn't know squat about taking care of cast iron. I don't know why Mom had given it to him. It belonged to our grandmother. I guess because he'd gotten married first. He heats tortillas in the microwave. I can't friggin' stand it.

"Dada, I hungeee," announced Sophie as she tossed her marker to the floor.
"Sweetie, we don't throw markers. Please pick it up."
"I wan cheeese, Dada."
"You lunch is almost ready. Please pick up your marker."

Sophie hopped off her chair to retrieve the marker but only because it suited her. Her writing utensil had rolled off into the living room. I grabbed one of her bunny plates for the melty cheesy goodness that was to be her lunch. My phone rang. Speak of the devil.

"Hey, bro," I said as I flipped Sophie's quesadilla off the little round griddle.
"Hey, man. How's it goin'?"
"Gooood. Wassup?"
"Did we let you guys borrow Grandma's comal?"
"Uh, no. Why?"
"Nell's having a fiesta themed potluck at work and she wants to serve her fajitas on it to give them an authentic look despite the fact that we buy them at Costco."

I turned off the stove and put Sophie's food on the table to cool.

"Last time I saw it was at the Oscars party you guys had," I said, total fabrication.
"Yeah, well maybe her friend Diane has it. We never use the thing."
"So, I should go. It's Sophie's lunch time."
"Ok. Tell her her tio said hi."
"Will do, bro."
"Bye."
"Laters."

Things were too quite. I walked into the living room to get Sophie. She'd drawn a fish, about a foot long, on the wall next to our couch behind which she was now hiding.

"Sophie, why did you do this?"
"Not me, Dada. I wan cheeese!"
"Sophie-"
"Not me. Not me. Not mee!" Exclaimed my daughter as she bolted down the hall.
"Little girls who tell lies to their Dada's don't get to go to the playground after lunch!"
"I wan cheeese, Dada. No lies!"