A Thursday morning in four acts.
Thursdays and Fridays are dad goes to work days. Which means it is me, baby girl, and kiddo navigating the morning to get everyone wherever they need to go on their very demanding schedules. We are never on time. We are as close to time as the universe will allow, which is a different thing entirely. Fingers crossed I remember the right place to take them.
This particular Thursday baby girl needed to be Belle.
Not just Belle. Belle with the wand, the crown, and the shoes. The full situation. The costume lives in her closet next to two Ariels, a Cinderella, a Rapunzel, and whatever else has accumulated in there that I’ve lost track of. Belle is prime real estate. Most worn. Most beloved. Non negotiable.
We were already late. I was making lunches. I was making breakfast. Baby girl was dead set on leaving the house as a complete Belle unit and nothing less.
I tried reason.
You have the dress. You have the main thing. We need to go because this is about getting kiddo to school and he has a schedule to keep and we need to help him keep it.
This was white noise to a four-year-old in a Belle dress who needed her accessories.
I told her they were in the bench downstairs. She went upstairs to look. Came back down. Not there. I said it’s too late we have to go.
That was not an option.
The accessories were found. Wand located. Crown located. Shoes located. Finding the zen I never had and apparently need in order to get two children into a car.
We got in the car.
A little voice from the back seat.
Mom. Where’s my juice.
It was then I realized that amongst everything else I needed to do that morning, and a lot of the stuff I didn’t anticipate having to do, I had forgotten her staple. Her car juice.
Her Highness was displeased with my disservice. The fact that the juice got displaced by the fifteen-minute Belle accessories situation was not relevant information. She is a princess. I am a peon peasant. These are the facts of our dynamic and I would do well to remember them.
We arrived at ABA. Honestly not as late as I thought we would be.
Kiddo went in to start his day. Baby girl spotted Ashley at the front desk and lit up the way she lights up for anyone who is not me.
Oh my god. You look like a princess. Belle is the best. How about we color?
Baby girl was emphatically excited about coloring with Ashley. I sat down. I was already not the coolest mom today on account of the yelling about the accessories and the missing juice situation. I was taking a backseat.
She colored with Ashley. She hugged Ashley. She told Ashley I love you you’re my best friend approximately four times in ten minutes.
I did not receive this energy. I feed, bathe, clothe, and ensure her continued survival on a daily basis. Ashley has crayons. Life is not fair.
Then Britney walked in.
Oh my god you’re here. Let’s make friendship bracelets.
I could not leave. Britney had dangled a carrot and I would be the villain of the morning if we walked out now. Not like we had anywhere to be. We sat. The friendship bracelets became necklaces. The necklaces became stickers. Baby girl had the time of her life and acquired several new accessories to add to the Belle collection she had already fought so hard for this morning.
At some point a little boy came in with his dad and he was not having a good day. Just sitting in his dad’s lap. Not okay.
Baby girl walked over. Looked at the dad. Looked at the boy.
He’s being shy right now. He probably needs some space.
And then she went back to her bracelets.
I didn’t say a word. I watched her read the room, assess the situation, and identify accurately — for a four-year-old — exactly how to be in that moment.
I filed that away.
Then another kid walked in. We hadn’t seen him in months. Baby girl and this kid didn’t have some great established bond. They just knew each other the way kids at the same place know each other.
But something happened when he walked through that door.
Baby girl ran up to him and hugged him like she’d been waiting to see him her whole life. And he giggled. This kid who couldn’t talk just giggled and hugged her back with everything he had.
And then they gave each other high fives.
And then they danced.
No words. Just two kids who understood something about each other that didn’t require language.
I don’t know what they understood. I just know they understood it.
We left with her new accessories added to the existing ones. I had been informed multiple times that Ashley was her best friend. I had found the wand and the crown and the shoes and still arrived close enough to on time that it didn’t matter.
This is the same feral child who has threatened to hit me, thrown her shoes at me, and launched crayons across my face on previous occasions. She is also a sweet, kind, compassionate little girl who makes every kid feel loved that she is around.
At least the right emotions are coming out at the right times. That’s all I can ask for.
That’s the silver lining. My little girl being a human to all people and knowing what they need. Forget the juice box.
Not bad for a Tuesday.
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