"Dad, do you think my drawing is good?"
"Yes."
"Better than your paper?"
Yang Ping laughed. This "better than the paper" joke had been used by Dabao many times. Each time he used it at just the right moment, like a well-practiced comedian.
"Better than all my papers," he said.
Dabao carefully placed the drawing on the coffee table, ran back to the kitchen door, poked his head in, and shouted, "Mom, Dad said my drawing is better than his paper!"
Xiao Su's voice came from the kitchen, with a smile, "Then you're really amazing!"
Yang Ping washed his hands and walked to the kitchen door. Xiao Su was serving the food: braised pork ribs, with the sauce gently shaking in the tray, steaming hot. Erbao cried out from the nursery and then stopped, perhaps just turned over.
"Today, Lin Xiaoyu's MRI came out," Yang Ping said.
Xiao Su handed him a plate, "How is it?"
