Gunpowder and Tea Cakes: My Journey with Felicity

I continue hesitantly. Maybe there’s a way I can prove to him that I’m not a little kid anymore. Perhaps I can volunteer at the animal shelter. If I can do that and still get my homework done… I hope Dad can understand what I’m trying to say, because I’m running out of words.

Then, finally, Dad blows out a long sigh. He says I’m right. He’s been too strict with me. I can hardly believe my ears. He says it’s because he loves me, and he’s trying to keep me safe. Ever since Mom died…

I nod. I know. Dad coughs as if he has a lump in his throat. He says we should stop by the animal shelter and get me set up for volunteer training. If I’m responsible enough to handle volunteering alongside my homework for a month, we can adjust some of the rules.

I can hardly believe it. I didn’t think there was anything I could do to get Dad to change his rules. But Mr. Randolph was right. Sometimes a conversation can do more good than all kinds of complaints and arguments.

Dad suggests we go to the shelter tonight. He knows it’s important to me. But we can do that tomorrow. I tell him I need to start my essay on citizenship. I have some new ideas of what to write about. He smiles. Choosing homework over the shelter? I really am not a little kid anymore.