Papa Elsa

Elsa lay sprawled on the couch, one leg hanging off the side, the other propped up on a pillow, arm flung over her eyes, snoring lightly.  Afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust particles as they floated lightly in the air.  Everything was still.

 

A tiny hand appeared on the armrest under Elsa’s head, fingers clutching the thick fabric as a small figure clambered on to it.  Despite the movement, she didn’t stir.

 

Suddenly the figure was airborne, landing heavily on Elsa’s stomach.  

 

“Oof,” she grunted, eyes shooting open, dazed but still startled by whatever had interrupted her nap.  A giggle came from the lump on her midsection, and her surprised expression melted into an affectionate smile, as she stealthily moved her hands down towards her unsuspecting attacker.  “You little devil,” she said, grinning.  “You woke the tickle monster, and now he’s coming for you!”  She pressed her fingers lightly into soft sides, a playful squeal her reward.

 

“No, no, papa!  Not the tickle monster!”  Elsa’s daughter squirmed in her grip, trying to escape the wiggling fingers.

 

Elsa didn’t let up.  “Yes!  And there’s no way you can stop him!” she teased, chasing the little girl as she crawled up Elsa’s frame, throwing tiny arms around the woman’s neck.  

 

“I know how!” the girl said, and Elsa tangled a finger through a little red braid.  

 

“Oh yeah?” she smirked, quirking an eyebrow.  “What are you gonna do?”

 

Fists curled into her sweater, and a soft kiss was pressed to her cheek.  Elsa felt her heart swell with love as her daughter spoke.  “I love you, Papa,” she said, softly, before burying her face into Elsa’s neck.

 

Elsa let her hands rest on the girl’s back, cuddling her closer and kissing the top of her head.  “I love you too, sweetheart.”