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The reporter is caught by surprise, but with a big smile says, “Oh of course.”
“Hey Alissa!” He takes the microphone from the reporter’s hand.
In the living room, Alissa turns to look at me like a deer in the headlights, and I just point her back to the TV.
“I’m sorry I was late for your birthday, but to celebrate, I’m going to score a lot of goals here for you today. When I get back, we are going to celebrate together, okay?”
He excuses himself to go join the other players. The reporter finishes her statement, and the transmission resumes with the commentators.
I watch as Alissa walks toward me like a zombie, mouth wide open, and her hands holding the sides of her head.
“Oh. My. Goodness!” she says and then jumps into my arms. “He is so cool, mom!”
“When will you see him?” Carla stirs the pot and I hold back an eye roll.
“I don’t know.” Alissa blinks with the realization. “When, mommy?”
She looks at me, perusing my soul with those big blue eyes.
“I don’t know either, sweet pea. Andrew is a busy person,” I tell her, much to her disappointment. “But we’ll see when he comes back.”
“Okay.” She seems satisfied and sits up straight again. She looks over her shoulder to ask, “Can I have a soda?”
“You’ll pee on the bed if you have a soda now.” Dan teases her.
Alissa sticks her tongue out at him.
“Don’t embarrass her, Daniel,” I say, ready to hear mom defending Dan again.
I turn to Alissa and say softly, “No, sweet pea, you won’t sleep if you do. You can have a glass of warm milk. How does that sound?”
Disappointed yet again, Alissa sighs, “Okay.”
She heads for the kitchen, and I follow behind her. When I get there, she’s already reaching for the door handle of the fridge, trying to open it, but to no avail.
“Here, let me do it.” I step in front of her, and she looks up with wonder at my magic grown-up powers as I easily open the fridge.
“Can I have chocolate milk?” Alissa asks, all hopeful.
“No, same as with the soda, there’s too much sugar and you won’t be able to sleep,” I say, taking the milk jug out of the fridge.
Alissa crosses her arms and pouts. “I can never have what I want!”
“Welcome to being a kid. Someday when you’re old you might miss it,” I say to her.
“I will not!” She continues to pout.
“Well, maybe not the part where grown-ups order you around, but maybe the part where they take care of you.”
I take a mug from the cupboard and pour milk in it. “My mommy doesn’t make me warm milk anymore.”
I wink at her and then I take the milk to the microwave and go looking for a clean sippy cup in the dishwasher.
“And what do daddies do, mommy?”
She cuts my heart in half with those words.
“Well…”
