That night my Dad came in to say goodnight . . . and goodbye, of course. As usual, he was leaving for a business trip to somewhere in the world. Even though he wasn’t around as much as I wanted, Dad always knew when something was bothering me, and he was really good at listening.

“Hey, pal, you seem a little down—what’s happening?”

I must have been really bummed out because almost started crying. I remembered that because my streak was now at three years and four months. Bones said his no-cry streak was at thirteen years, which was really stupid because that meant he never cried when he was a baby.

So I told my Dad, “All the kids in my class think I’m fat and slow, and they call me the Blimp. And on top of that, The Estellicane drove my only friend home today five minutes after he came over.”

My dad was chuckling at “The Estellicane.” He said, “I’ll have a talk with ‘The Estellicane.’ Everything will be all right, pal.”

The next morning Dad was gone, but at breakfast Estelle said it would be okay if I invited Bones over to play, just as long as we stayed at my house.

Whether it was the fourth grade or any other time, Dad always knew how to make things right. I just wished he was around more to do it.

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