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“Mama!” She bounces from foot to foot, her pink light-up shoes glowing on the pavement.
I bend down and pull her into a hug. She tucks herself tightly against my side, and I press a kiss to her chestnut brown hair. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“Ms. Albrecht has an appointment so we comed to the door to see you,” Yuliana says.
I look up at her teacher, brows knit. “I’m so sorry. I got here as soon as I could.”
“It’s okay,” she says with a practiced smile. “I do have to get going, though. Do you have everything, Yuliana? ‘Cause I’m going to lock the doors. You all are the last ones here.”
I’m not sure if that was meant as a condemnation, but it sure feels like one.
Ms. Albrecht is a new addition to the staff this year, which is why she is usually the last one here at the end of the day. Let’s just say, we see a lot of each other. This is not my first time being the last parent to pick up at daycare.
I wince. “I’m so sorry. I got out of work late and—”
“Really not a problem,” the young teacher assures me. “I have to skedaddle. I’ll see you tomorrow, Yuliana!”
Yuliana waves with an excited hand over her head, then we follow a jogging Ms. Albrecht down the sidewalk.
“Did you have a good day?” I ask, trying to shake off the guilt sitting firmly on my shoulders.
What’s done is done. The best thing I can do is try to do better tomorrow.How’s that for a fortune cookie line?
“Outside, the boys chased me across the playground like zombies. I told them I was tired, but they chased me because of my shoes. They said zombies like the lights.”
“Zombies have good taste in footwear, then,” I say. “Those are the coolest shoes ever.”
She smiles. “They make me really, really, really fast. I zoomed everywhere and the boys couldn’t catch me.”
I hold out my hand for a high-five. Yuliana slaps my palm with her little hand before swinging herself into the car and climbing in her car seat. As I’m buckling her straps, she looks up at me. Her green eyes are suddenly watery, her four-and-a-half year-old emotions swinging from contentment to devastation in a single breath.
“What is it, Honey Bunny?” I ask, stroking her round cheek. She’s starting to grow leaner, losing a bit of her toddler-like chubbiness. I mourn it a little more each day. How fast time slips away.
“Cameron said my mom didn’t love me.” She sniffles. I can tell this is a fake cry. The emotions are real, but the sniffling is for dramatic effect. “He said you forgot about me and that’s why I’m always the last one.”
Her tears may be fake, but mine are not. I blink back the guilt threatening to pool in my eyes and clear my throat. “Well, you can tell Cameron that he is not being a very good friend when he says that kind of thing to you.”
Also, tell him your mom will kick his five-year-old keister across the black top if he ever says anything like that again.
“I told him you love me to the edge of the universe,” she says proudly.
“And back?”
Her eyes widen in horror. “I forgot that part!”
“That’s okay. You can tell him the rest when you see him tomorrow.”
“Okay. So… you didn’t forget about me?”
It’s my turn to look horrified. “Honey, do you really think I could ever, in a million, trillion, gazillion years forget about you?”
She smiles shyly, little dimples pressing into her cheeks. The little stinker shrugs like she isn’t sure.
I lean into the back door and tickle her until she’s squealing. “No! No!” she shrieks giddily. “You won’t forget about me!”
“How much do I love you?” I ask with my hand in a lobster claw formation, threatening her with another round of tickles.
She shields herself with her comically large backpack. “To the edge of the universe!”
