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“A cake pop?”
“Yes! Pink and sprinkles! How did you know?”
Yep, when it comes to Emily my brain is a steel trap. I haven’t forgotten a thing. While I’m happy that I still know her as well as I once did, I’m more concerned that this sweet little thing thinks her momma is sad and needs to be cheered up.
“Sweetheart, why do you think your momma is sad?” I ask as I pull out of the parking lot.
“Because at bed time she squeezed me extra-long and I fink hers was crying when she left me at school today.”
Shit!
“Okay, then I think you’re right Princess. She needs a cake pop!”
She is young, yet so wise. It’s clear that this mother and daughter are close, and that Emily clearly can’t keep much from Ireland no matter how hard she tries. There is no way to explain to Ireland what is going on because it would scare her to death, and I’m sure Emily feels helpless in this situation. Threatening notes and pictures just aren’t things you share with your four-year old, and I don’t think it’s my job to tell her. I’ll leave that to her momma. When I find out who is doing this, I am going to tear them limb from fucking limb.
Not sure how I missed the tears this morning, but I did wait in the truck while she dropped Ireland off. She must have gathered herself before coming back out of the building. Emily is strong, but she isn’t invincible. Even tough momma’s like Emily can only take so much.
Ireland is in the cab of the truck but unbuckled while I lean my shoulder against the truck door and gab with her through the window. This kid never stops talking. She talked all the way to Starbucks, but got silent when we went through the drive-thru to order our cake pops. As soon as we had cake pops in hand, she started up again and hasn’t stopped since.
She’s told me about her favorite teachers, favorite kids, least-favorite kids and who doesn’t wash their hands after they go to the bathroom. I know that today they started working on their Thanksgiving play that they will give next month, and that she gets to be a pilgrim. She says the show is top secret though and that is all she can tell me. She did ask me if I would come to watch her in it, and I told her I would love to! It’s the truth, I really can’t wait!
Ireland has a cake pop in each hand and I have one as well. I can tell the moment that Emily walks out of the school doors because Ireland’s eyes light up. She puts her cake pops behind her back and whispers. “Mommy’s comin’, Jonafon!”
I take this as my cue and hide my cake pop behind my back as well. When Emily gets within a couple of feet of us Ireland yells. “Surprise, mommy!” and holds both of her cake pop filled hands out the open window.
“For me? Both of them?”
“We got one for each of us, but you can have mine mommy.”
Emily taps Ireland on the nose and says, “One is all I need, baby girl. Thank you. This is just what I needed.”
She then turns her attention to me and says simply, “Thank you.”
I shyly pull my cake pop out from behind my back and Emily takes one of Ireland’s. I bring my cake pop towards them and say, “Cheers, ladies.” We all tip our cake pops together until they touch and the girls say cheers back to me. After we all take our first bites, I can’t help myself when I moan.
“Damn, these things are good!” I’m savoring each bite of my tiny dessert when I hear Ireland call me out.
“Mommy, Jonafon said a bad word.”
“He did, but he’ll try to be careful in the future, right, Georgia?”
“Right, Gracie. Sorry about that, Princess.”
I walk around to the driver’s side of the truck while Emily buckles Ireland back in, and then joins me in the front of the cab finishing her cake pop. Once again, Ireland waits until both Emily and I are in front of the truck’s cab before she asks her question.
“Momma, why you call him Georgia and he calls you Gracie?”
Emily’s cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, but she looks me in the eye and smiles while she says, “Baby girl, those are nicknames. Kind of like how I call you Baby Girl and Uncle Mick calls you I. When I met Jonathan a long time ago, before you were born, he told me he was from the state of Georgia. So when we became friends way back then, I gave him the nickname of Georgia. He calls me Gracie . . .”
I interrupt her because I want to take this one. “I call your momma Gracie because it’s my way of letting her know how special she is to me. When I met your momma she told me a story about your great-grandparents and that story was about how her grandpa called her grandma Gracie to make her feel special. I want your mom to know she is just as special to me as her grandma was to her grandpa. I call you Princess because you have reminded me of a princess since the first time I met you. And you just happen to be the cutest little princess I have ever met!”
“Oh, okay.” Ireland says simple as that. I look at her in my rearview mirror and I see a smile break out across her adorable face when she confesses. “I like it when you call me Princess.”
“I like it when your momma calls me Georgia so I know just how you feel, little one.”
Emily doesn’t speak but she does lean over and take my hand and doesn’t let go until we reach our next destination. That’s enough for me.
The rest of the afternoon is filled with all sorts of little things. Boring, mundane things that all of us need to do on a daily basis, but having this dynamic duo with me sure makes it all that much more enjoyable.
