She looked to be in her late-twenties, perhaps, with soft brown curls escaping a loose clip and enormous glasses that kept sliding down her nose. She wore a cardigan with tiny, embroidered strawberries near the cuffs. The energy radiating off her told me she was accustomed to apologizing for occupying physical space.
A little girl in pigtails, already covered in raspberry filling, stood beside her. The child grinned at me with red-stained teeth.
“You approve of the anatomical direction?” I asked.
The woman laughed nervously. “Honestly? I think they’re the most memorable thing here.”
“That’s diplomatic phrasing.”
“It’s true.” She lowered her voice slightly. “The unicorn cupcakes all kind of blend together after table four.”
I liked her immediately.
“I’m Winnie,” I said.
“Oh. Right, sorry. I’m Millie. Millie Applebaum.”
Billie pointed dramatically at the child beside her. “You look haunted.”
Millie looked alarmed until she noticed the filling all over her kid’s face and hair. “Oh my god. Hazel, honey.”
Hazel grinned wider. “I’m a zombie princess.”
“Yes, you certainly look like one.” Millie looked exhausted, and I noticed she didn’t have a ring on her left hand. Single mother. I should’ve guessed based on the dark circles under her eyes, the mismatched socks on Hazel, and the general air of not giving a fuck. Single moms were the real MVPs, typically doing everything without an ounce of help.
I softened slightly. “Would you like a wet wipe?”
Her face lit with genuine gratitude. “You have wet wipes?”
“I plan ahead.”
“That’s honestly the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Then she froze. “Oh my god. I didn’t mean?—”
I laughed before she could die from embarrassment. “You’re perfectly all right.”
Billie stared between us thoughtfully. “I think you just proposed marriage.”
Millie covered her face.
CJ looked up from his notebook. “I would attend that wedding.”
“You’d attend anything if snacks are involved,” Bianca said.
Millie laughed helplessly into her hands before finally accepting the wet wipes I handed her. “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome.”
Hazel took another enormous bite of the pastry. Raspberry filling immediately exploded down the front of her shirt. Then she screamed joyfully, “Look, Mommy! I’m bleeding!”
Across the gymnasium, several other children had had similar experiences. Small monsters roamed everywhere now. One child had smeared filling across both cheeks. Another hissed at passing adults.
And because I had anticipated this outcome completely, I distributed wet wipes like a battlefield medic while parents attempted to recover emotionally.
“You really prepared for this,” Millie said, watching me hand another wipe packet to a desperate father.
“Children enjoy a good theme.”
Millie laughed. “That they do.”
