He got up, walked over to his daughter, and placed his large, gnarled hands on her shoulders. Looking her square in the face, he continued, “I wasn’t kidding or making fun. Your mother and I have eyes in our heads. And we use them, too! We see the joy and wonder that fills your pretty face whenever you dance. And you know that our little farm doesn’t provide for much more than just what we need, with a wee extra, once in a while. However,” he said, gently squeezing her shoulders with his knobby fingers, “I always want you to dream your dreams. Do not let them go! You may not see all of them fulfilled, it is true. Those times can be difficult. But, my darling, you are certain to not ever reach a dream you abandon.”
Just over her father’s left shoulder, Freida saw her mother dabbing a kerchief to her eyes. She must have heard the whole thing.
“OK, Papa,” replied Freida, fiercely hugging her father.
He smiled and patted her head. “Ready for those pancakes now?”
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