CJ noticed first. “Dad? Is everything okay?”
“I owe you both an apology,” I said.
Billie looked around. “Them? Not me?”
“No. Right now I’m talking to CJ and Bianca.”
Billie nodded and shoved a pancake into her mouth.
I sat across from the older two and took a breath. “I stepped out during the recital last night for work,” I said. “I told myself it was okay because I made it there and because I saw most of it.”
Bianca studied her plate. CJ’s fingers moved toward the syrup, then stopped.
“But I missed part of something important to you,” I continued. “And I’m sorry.”
Bianca shrugged one shoulder. “It was only one song.”
“That doesn’t make it unimportant,” I finally admitted out loud.
Both my children watched me carefully. I hated that carefulness.
“I’m proud of both of you,” I said. “Really proud. And I want to do better at showing up fully, not halfway while checking my phone.”
Billie leaned over her plate. “What about me?”
“You also performed very well, staying mostly quiet and still during the recital.”
She looked satisfied. “I knew it.”
I turned back to CJ and Bianca. “I’d like to make it up to you today. Just the three of us. We can go somewhere, do something fun, whatever you want.”
Billie’s head snapped up. “I want to go, too.”
“I know, baby, but not this time.”
Her lower lip pushed out immediately.
I felt the old instinct rise in me. The instant need to make the disappointment go away to avoid her tears.
Then I heard Winnie in my head, which was inconvenient and mildly irritating.
Being present requires a kind of vulnerability you can’t schedule.
“Today is for CJ and Bianca,” I said gently. “I messed up their night, and I’m going to make it up to them.”
“But I like to have fun, too.”
“I know. You and I will have our own day soon. Just us.”
Her pout intensified. “What kind of soon?”
“Actually soon. Not adult soon.”
CJ muttered, “Adult soon means next fiscal quarter.”
Bianca nodded. “Or after an email.”
I deserved that.
