“Daddy, look.” June points to a splatter of red on the wall. “It’s messy.” “Very messy,” Dallas says, and he leads us over to a long table covered in dried paint. “And you know what the best part is? There are no rules.” “No rules?” she asks. “I can run?” “You can run wherever you want, JB.” “Gonna get you, Daddy.” June stands on her toes and grabs a brush off the table. She dips it in the can of pink and swirls it around. Satisfied with how it looks, she pulls it out and flings it at him, giggling when it goes all over the jumpsuit covering his legs. “I did it!” I pick up a brush and dip it
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