"Let's play, Papa!" As she shouted again, her small hands clutched at my sleeve.
"You really shouldn't call a stranger 'papa,'" I gently warned her. While I recognized she was doing it to encourage me to play, I believed it was important to teach her about this.
Her reaction was sincere. "I don't have a papa; please play with me," she pleaded with shining puppy eyes. She stepped in closer, as if she were about to burst into tears.
"Sigh... fine," I relented again as I rose from the bench. The observers' lingering eyes were becoming unsettling, especially after Zaira called me Papa.
'Didn't she say her mother was beautiful?'.
Her enthusiasm now returned, and she quickly drew me toward the great fountain, saying, "Yay!" And now I feel like I have been tricked by her.
