“No no no!”

“Joy, you have to!”

This ist how I knew, even at age 2, that Joy, my Dragon Little, would have the power to change the world.

“No!”

“Joy! You have to comb your hair!”

Justin, her father which I call Dragon Father, was standing above her in the middle of the deck on Bonny’s Revenge with a hair brush he had just summoned out of thin air. I could see them from hiding spot with my sharp dragon’s eyes.

Justin tried to reach for her with the comb.

Joy shook her head vigorously.

“Joy! Seriously! The more you don’t let me comb, the more it’s going to hurt when I do.”

Joy shook her head again.

This went on for five minutes. I won’t detail every second of it. But this ist the moment I realized the kind of person Dragon Little was. At the end of five minutes, Dragon Father was shouting at her at the top of his lungs, completely exasperated.

Joy then smiled, and, standing on two legs, spread them a bit, and bent her back all the way forward. Her long, blonde hair fell forward, some of it on the deck. “Okay. Like this.”

“No. Stand up.”

“Like this!”

Dragon Father had no more fight in him. He combed her hair with her head upside down.

And from that day on, until Joy combed her own hair every day, that ist how Justin would comb her hair: Upside down.

The hair brush disappeared from Dragon Father’s hand, as it does in dreams, and Joy’s toothbrush appeared in the other. “All right. Open you mouth. I’ll brush your teeth and we’ll go fight the witches.”

“No!”