“Dad,” Bonnie called out to her father, “Come see what I made.”
Dave stepped out and saw his fourteen-year-old daughter standing in front of her creation. He looked at what she had made and then looked at her. “A scarecrow?” he said. “It’s very nice, honey, but I’m not sure we need a scarecrow in the flower garden.”
“Dad, she’s not a scarecrow,” Bonnie said. “Don’t you recognize her?”
Dave scrutinized the scarecrow. “Oh sure,” he said. “I bet she’s the wife of the scarecrow from ‘The Wizard of Oz,’ right?”
“No, Dad.” Bonnie said, hands on her hips, giving him her famous stink eye. “What’s my very favorite movie?”
“Um,” he said. “Is it ‘The Sound of Music?’” he asked, knowing that it was.
“Ding, ding, ding,” Bonnie said, smiling broadly.
“I don’t remember there being any scarecrows in that movie,” Dave said.
“Dad, I already told you that she’s not a scarecrow,” Bonnie said, feigning annoyance. “Pretend that this isn’t a garden, but a hilltop surrounded by tall mountains. Now do you know who she is?”
“Maria?” he asked.
“Yes!” She said. She pulled a folded paper from her pocket and handed it to him. “See?”
Written for this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt from Susan Spaulding. Photo credit: Anurag Bakhshi.