Hey, fine. Give him hell, girl,’ she says, ruffling Ellie’s hair and smiling at me. Ellie’s still not happy. I don’t blame her. I’m a grown adult and I can’t handle being up at this time. As Ellie’s wails begin to build, Tasha takes the Rosie Ragdoll down from on top of the kitchen clock and hands it to her. Ellie stops crying immediately.





