Ah, Saturday

So few things are as lovely as a Saturday morning, reading the paper and drinking coffee on the back patio, Buddy sitting on the sun-warmed bricks at my feet.
I scanned the paper and shook my head a lot, but it only took about a half an hour to get to what I was really after: the crossword. I'd stuck a pencil and a pen in my hair behind my ponytail and, despite the fat, soft letters produced by an unsharpened lead, I used the pencil throughout.
I got most of the boxes filled in, stuck on a few four-letter words that would never just come to me. I called my dad. Without hesitating, he told me that the Algonquin language is CREE, ERLE is Perry's creator (he said the whole name, but it went right out the other ear), and that LIMN means to describe.
"What paper is this?" he asked. "Saturday is supposed to be hard in most papers."
"It's the Post, Daddy." I said, a little exasperated. "And it was hard. For me."
"If you say so." I could hear the smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Thanks for your help, Daddy."
"You are very welcome, princess. I love you."
"Love you, too, Daddy. Bye."

My day is made.