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“Where do babies come from?” She also has a knack for changing the subject out of the blue. One of her many talents.
“Oh, um…” My mind goes blank. “You should ask your dad.”
“I already did.” She springs to her feet. “He told me it’s magic, like from a special wand.”
“Magicians pull rabbits from hats. Why not babies?” That explanation might come in handy in the future.
“But the baby isn’t out yet. Do magicians put bunnies in hats too? Did Joy visit the circus?”
On second thought, the explanation isn’t so great after all.
I rest a palm on my forehead. “These are really good questions.”
Which prompts her to ask more. “How did the baby get in Joy’s belly? Why is her tummy round? Does the baby look like a ball?”
“Uh, maybe Joy will tell us when she visits.”
She squeaks and hops in a fast circle. “I super hope she does. Tell her we miss her extra lots, okay? And we wanna know where her baby came from.”
“I’ll definitely let her know,” I laugh.
Sydney appears pleased with that response, slipping into another momentary lull. A glint suddenly enters her gaze. “Do you get lonely?”
Left field just lobbed me a grounder. It’s safe for me to say, “Sometimes. Doesn’t everybody?”
She nods. “I think my dad is lonely.”
“Oh?” This is heading in a direction I’m not prepared to go.
“Uh-huh. But he has me to keep him company. You don’t have anybody. Does that mean you’re extra lonely?”
“I don’t mind living alone,” I defend. As I told Joy, it’s peaceful having my own space.
“Do you eat by yourself? The teachers at school tell us we shouldn’t eat alone. They make sure we have a friend to sit with.” Her care for my well-being is endearing, and a tad presumptuous. But I’m focusing on the former.
“That’s very thoughtful of them. I’m actually having dinner with a… friend tonight.”
“Where?”
“A restaurant. It’s called The Tavern.”
Her blank expression suggests she doesn’t know of the place. “With Joy?”
“Nope, I’m going with a different friend.”
“What’s her name?”
“You’re being a curious cat.” I lean forward and tap her nose. “His name is Daniel.”
Sydney gasps. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“Well, he’s a boy. And my friend, I guess.” It’s not the best sign that our first date doesn’t send a single flutter in my belly, but I have to put myself out there. I’ve been stuck on the singles bench for longer than I care to calculate.
“So, he’s your boyfriend.”
“Sure,” I relent. There’s no harm in that.
“I don’t have one of those,” she mutters.
