The fireflies had arrived, just as my father said they would, and I watched them with my dry lips parted in wonder, my palms sliding expectantly on the lap of my dress. I felt like running and greeting them, but they joined me instead. Dozens of tiny blinks materialized, floating. "I'm Jeliza-Rose," I said, bouncing on my crossed legs. "Hello."
Their flickers indicated understanding: The more I spoke, the more they blinked—or so I believed.
In vain I reached out, attempting to snatch the nearest one, but when I unclenched my fist there was nothing to be seen. After several failed captures, I made myself content by simply naming the fireflies as they flashed.
"You're Michael. You're Ann. Are you Michael again? No, wait, you're Barbie. And that's Chris. There's Michael."
Then the fireflies were gone, having been whisked afield by the wind. I glanced in the direction of the old house, wondering if my father was in the living room, quiet and awaiting my return.
adapted from Tideland by Mitch Cullin

What effect does limiting the point of view to the narrator have on the story?

A.
It gives the audience a sense of how concerned the narrator's father is of the insects.
B.
It gives the audience a sense of how a child thinks and how his or her imagination works.
C.
It gives the audience a sense of how proud the father feels as he watches his daughter.
D.
It gives the audience a sense of how terrified the fireflies are of the narrator.