Hot Daddy: My Beautiful Morning

Prize Pile

I woke up to the sound of music in the backyard. I was still sleepy so I didn't open my eyes. Snoring in the dimness of the room I heard the sound of noisy music from outside the house. I know, my dad must be doing sports there. So I calmed down, which meant that it wasn't like it had been, that he usually left before I woke up. But it was already quite noon, I had to wake up even though Oma and the rest of the house must have been understood because last night I slept late after the party.

Now I sit up straight. My eyes were fixed on the pile of presents, but my ears listened to the beat of music that drew me to peek: what sport is Daddy doing down there? I stood up, opened the curtains and windows, and, my eyes were instantly blinded by the sunlight.

"Hi, Honey. Good morning," said Daddy in a heavy voice. He is in the middle of lifting weights with the supine position facing up.

Yep, the position of my room upstairs with a window that leads directly to the pool, so my father can see me standing in the window of the room. "Morning, Dad."

I smile. From the beginning I realized his good looks - - which I was always proud of in front of my friends who were interested when I saw him. Often, for reasons of doing group assignments or studying together, they force me to take them home. Though I knew exactly, they wanted to see that true good looks. I have also blamed it, I mean in my heart I blame my friends - maybe my father was uncomfortable with those who often went home until he chose to migrate to Sumatra. Ah, the name is also the thought of a young teenager who just went up to the tenth grade. But now no, I'm in twelfth grade, third grade High School and I'm seventeen. I understand the distance between us.

Yeah, I get it. But I won't let that distance continue to be the gulf between us. I'm his son, and it's not about blood and blood. But about the heart, I love it and don't want to lose it. Whatever people say. Whatever Aunt Sila and Riko say. Even if the world opposes, nothing can change this reality: it is mine.

Satisfied at the sight I immediately turned around and snatched the gift. The gifts were very attention-grabbing even though my stomach was a little hungry.

The first gift is wrapped creatively with super large size, the card paper is colorful butterfly pattern. I opened it slowly, not wanting to break the good wrapper. In two minutes I managed to get the light brown pillow doll out of it. The fur is very smooth and beside it there is a muzzle, like the face of a puppy, while underneath there are legs. I read the card, and apparently it's from Tiara.

Dinda presented me with a new light purple soft dress. Her elegant model and soft legs made me really like her and gave it a go. I turned my body around in front of the mirror. Very beautiful, very fitting with the shape of my body that is singset. The dress was tightly wrapped and clearly showed the shape of my beautiful body.

Once I was satisfied with the mirror, I took off the dress and started to open all the piles of presents. Most girlfriends give books, considering I like to collect novels. While the male friends were confused when choosing a gift, most gave me a doll, the most common gift for girls. As a result, my bed was filled with various dolls. Some give silver bracelets, beaded necklaces, table decorations, as well as various colorful stationery.

Finally, after nearly two hours, the gifts were all open, leaving mounds of wrapping paper on the carpet, and making a bed full of stuff. Very amusing.

However, as I was about to leave the room, I remembered the gift given by my dear grandmother. I keep it in a closet. Remembering the gift, I was excited and smiled to myself while stepping into the closet. Whatever it is, I'll be very happy. Because, the gift from my father and the gift from my grandmother is the most special gift I hope for every birthday. Whatever it is. And...

A picture frame. My portrait of me as a baby in Daddy's arms, and another of me in Oma's arms. And. I smiled reading the handwriting that he slipped behind the glass frame.

Oma can't wait for you to be 18 and graduate school.

Eh? Whatdoes thatmean? Why is Oma impatient? What if I was eighteen?