And now for a guest blog post from my sister Siri

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Dad always played these little pranks on her and her sister after turning off the light, popping out from behind a door. The foot of the bed.

She nestled deeper into the comforter cocoon, on the brink of dozing off. The worn stuffed dog fell loose of her grasp, her tiny hand slipping softly over the side.

A coarser, larger hand grabbed hers from the shadows under the bed. She jerked awake and shrieked at her Dad, half-laughing.

Through the crack of the door, Dad's head appeared from the hall, "Siri? What's wrong?"

The laughter died in her throat.