find my niece at the table, enthusiastically eating cereal and chewing with her mouth open. She wears a pair of Dora pajama bottoms and a Disney Princess pajama shirt. Between enormous bites, she sings a song I don’t recognize.
“We’re going on a trip in our little rocket ship, going through the skies, Little Einsteins.”
I’d like to be going on a trip, too. Back to my blissfully quiet, empty apartment.
“Good morning, McKenna,” I say brightly. The five-year-old doesn’t even look up, just continues to crunch crunch crunch . Loudly. “I said good morning, McKenna.”
She finally tears her attention away from her cereal and narrows her eyes at me. “What are you doing here?”
Oh, boy. There better be some coffee in this house, or I’m going to seriously hurt someone.
I manage to smile through clenched teeth. “I’m staying here for a little while, to help take care of you and your brother while your mommy’s away.”
“We don’t need your help.” She shoves a heaping spoonful of the multi-colored cereal into her mouth while I count to ten. “My daddy can take care of us.”
“Your daddy has to go to work,” I remind her. Then add, “And don’t talk with your mouth full, McKenna. You really should take smaller bites, too. If you eat too much, your baby fat will turn into adult fat. And no one wants to see a fat ballerina.”
She blinks rapidly, her eyes filling with tears.
Oh, crap.
“I’m not fat!” she says defiantly, her lower lip starting to tremble.
“I didn’t say you were. I just said you have to be careful what you eat. You won’t be five forever.”
“I’m not FAT!” she wails.
The phone rings. I glance at the clock, then shake my head with disgust. (Anyone who calls my home before seven-thirty in the morning is asking to be murdered.) Abruptly, the ringing stops, and I’m left to hear my niece’s sobs in stunning stereo.
“McKenna, just calm down and finish your breakfast,” I tell her.
The tears spill down her cheeks and she starts to hiccup. I take a step back, fearing that the hiccups are possibly a precursor to projectile vomit. And even though I’m wearing my brother’s sweats, I’d like to avoid being hit twice in two days.
“I ( hiccup ) don’t ( hiccup ) want ( hiccup ) to eat ( hiccup hiccup ) my breakfast!”
“Yeah, no, honey, everything’s fine.” My brother strides purposefully into the kitchen holding Tebow under his arm like a football and cradling a cordless phone in the crook of his neck. “I did…Yes, honey, I did.”
He drops Tebow into his high chair, then stands and regards McKenna and me. After a glance at McKenna, he turns his attention to me and gives me the fish eye. “I will. I wrote everything down for her…Yes, with all of the emergency numbers and the contact numbers. Yes, I’ll tell her to. I promise.”
He picks up the box of cereal from the kitchen table and dumps a handful of Fruity O’s onto the high chair. Tebow instantly dives in with both hands. I wonder to myself whether Melanie is rolling over in her grave. She totally sucked as a mother in almost every way, but she was very big on manners. Even at four and three, my brother and I were perfectly polite, said ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ ate with a fork and knife, and always chewed with our mouths closed.
McKenna continues to hiccup and sob and Danny tries to cover the receiver with his hand. He grimaces.
“No, honey. No. Yes, that’s McKenna…Oh, well, she’s, uh, laughing at Tebow.” He glares at me. “Right now? Oh, um, she’s eating her breakfast. Can you talk to her later?” He sighs, relieved. “The nurse just walked in?” He mouths You are so lucky to me. I roll my eyes. “Okay, babe. Sure, call when you’re done. Love you.”
He hangs up and sets the phone on the counter. “What’s going on?”
“She called me fat!” McKenna cries miserably.
“I did not! I just said she needs to be careful if she wants to be a
“We’re going on a trip in our little rocket ship, going through the skies, Little Einsteins.”
I’d like to be going on a trip, too. Back to my blissfully quiet, empty apartment.
“Good morning, McKenna,” I say brightly. The five-year-old doesn’t even look up, just continues to crunch crunch crunch . Loudly. “I said good morning, McKenna.”
She finally tears her attention away from her cereal and narrows her eyes at me. “What are you doing here?”
Oh, boy. There better be some coffee in this house, or I’m going to seriously hurt someone.
I manage to smile through clenched teeth. “I’m staying here for a little while, to help take care of you and your brother while your mommy’s away.”
“We don’t need your help.” She shoves a heaping spoonful of the multi-colored cereal into her mouth while I count to ten. “My daddy can take care of us.”
“Your daddy has to go to work,” I remind her. Then add, “And don’t talk with your mouth full, McKenna. You really should take smaller bites, too. If you eat too much, your baby fat will turn into adult fat. And no one wants to see a fat ballerina.”
She blinks rapidly, her eyes filling with tears.
Oh, crap.
“I’m not fat!” she says defiantly, her lower lip starting to tremble.
“I didn’t say you were. I just said you have to be careful what you eat. You won’t be five forever.”
“I’m not FAT!” she wails.
The phone rings. I glance at the clock, then shake my head with disgust. (Anyone who calls my home before seven-thirty in the morning is asking to be murdered.) Abruptly, the ringing stops, and I’m left to hear my niece’s sobs in stunning stereo.
“McKenna, just calm down and finish your breakfast,” I tell her.
The tears spill down her cheeks and she starts to hiccup. I take a step back, fearing that the hiccups are possibly a precursor to projectile vomit. And even though I’m wearing my brother’s sweats, I’d like to avoid being hit twice in two days.
“I ( hiccup ) don’t ( hiccup ) want ( hiccup ) to eat ( hiccup hiccup ) my breakfast!”
“Yeah, no, honey, everything’s fine.” My brother strides purposefully into the kitchen holding Tebow under his arm like a football and cradling a cordless phone in the crook of his neck. “I did…Yes, honey, I did.”
He drops Tebow into his high chair, then stands and regards McKenna and me. After a glance at McKenna, he turns his attention to me and gives me the fish eye. “I will. I wrote everything down for her…Yes, with all of the emergency numbers and the contact numbers. Yes, I’ll tell her to. I promise.”
He picks up the box of cereal from the kitchen table and dumps a handful of Fruity O’s onto the high chair. Tebow instantly dives in with both hands. I wonder to myself whether Melanie is rolling over in her grave. She totally sucked as a mother in almost every way, but she was very big on manners. Even at four and three, my brother and I were perfectly polite, said ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ ate with a fork and knife, and always chewed with our mouths closed.
McKenna continues to hiccup and sob and Danny tries to cover the receiver with his hand. He grimaces.
“No, honey. No. Yes, that’s McKenna…Oh, well, she’s, uh, laughing at Tebow.” He glares at me. “Right now? Oh, um, she’s eating her breakfast. Can you talk to her later?” He sighs, relieved. “The nurse just walked in?” He mouths You are so lucky to me. I roll my eyes. “Okay, babe. Sure, call when you’re done. Love you.”
He hangs up and sets the phone on the counter. “What’s going on?”
“She called me fat!” McKenna cries miserably.
“I did not! I just said she needs to be careful if she wants to be a
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