“You never told me your father is Canadian.” “Does it matter?” Dash asked. “Of course it matters!” said Grandpa. But it was a defensive reaction. We all knew it didn’t matter. The shock was, we all knew about Dash’s dad. “But your dad’s—” I didn’t want to come out and say it. Such a rhymes-with-ick. Mrs. Basil E. spared me having to speak the harsh language aloud. She snapped, “Not all Canadians are nice, Lily. Don’t be so naïve. Dashiell, we’ll take custody of you on Canadian Thanksgiving.
