"You, Bella Rena Martin, are incredibly talented. And I’m not talking about ballet and dancing” 

Ah, Sunday. Beautiful, blissful Sunday. I lay in bed, eyes closed, a small smile on my face. I could lie here for hours, just me and my pretty room and the sunbeam that is shining directly on my face, warming it. My blankets are perfectly tangled and I’m just drowsy enough to fall back asleep… A knock and then my door opens. So much for my plans of uninterrupted laziness. Ma pokes her head in.

“Bells? You up?”

What does a girl have to do to get some sleep around here?

“Yeah, yeah,” I say grumpily. “I’m up. Bokers.”

“Good morning, honey. Daddy’s bringing something in, okay?” Ma’s eyes are twinkling with suppressed excitement.

I sit up in bed. “What is it?”

Ma winks. “You’ll see.”

Oh, boy. It’s going to be something totally extra; I can already tell.

Daddy sticks his head into the room. “Morning, princess. Ready?”

Totally not. “You bet,” I say cheerily.

He steps fully into the room. My mouth falls open. Like legit, jaw dropping and everything.

“Is that a….?”

“Yup,” Ma says proudly.

“It’s a sewing machine.”

“Yup,” she says again. “It’s a Brother CS6000i Sewing Machine.”

That means nothing to me. It’s new and shiny and has tons of buttons that I immediately want to press but there’s only one problem.

“I don’t sew.”

“Yet,” Daddy says. “You don’t sew yet.”

Okay, what is happening. Like, I literally feel like I’m part of a Purim shpiel or something.

“But,” I say, trying to be very clear, “I don’t think I’ve ever expressed interest in learning how to sew. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve never said the words ‘sewing machine’ before in my life.”

I blink at them earnestly, just in case we have fallen into an alternate universe and they need convincing of my seriousness.

Ma motions to Daddy to place it on my desk. He complies, moving aside my math book and a bag of apple chips. Funnily enough, it doesn’t look out of place. Huh.

She sits down next to me on the bed. “Bella Rena, I want to say something, and I want you to be mekabel what I’m saying, alright? Do you think you can do that? Really try to hear me?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “I’ll try,” I say tonelessly. “No promises.”