““This is pitiful. You realize this, right, Dad?” I ask. He concentrates on the video playing on his tablet, which he’s watched about five times. “We can do this. It can’t be that difficult.” “Why don’t we just call Mom? I bet—” He holds up a hand and gives me a stern look. “Absolutely not. Let me try again.” Mom comes into my room then, and I let out a relieved sigh. “Give it to me,” she says. “I’ve got this, Layla.” Dad holds the object of our frustration out of her reach. She shakes her head. “Why don’t you just borrow one of your dad’s ties, Daniel? I’m sure you can tie one of those.” “Nope,” I say for millionth time. “It has to be a bowtie.” “Why?” Dad whines. “Because bowties are cool.””
