Jane enters the kitchen and twirls around.
Erin: Wow, Jane!
Me: You look beautiful.
Jane is wearing her new skirt. It is everything she wanted it to be: a long peasant skirt in a lovely brown.
Alice: Oooo! You look like Cinderella! In rags!
The loveliest rash
Alice is in the bathtub. Her shoulders, neck, and tummy are covered in itchy pink spots.
Alice: Are they chicken pox?
Me: We don't think so. [ed. They're not.]
Alice: They're so itchy!
Me: I know.
Alice: I want to scratch them!
Me: I know.
Alice: I don't like them!
Me: I know.
She pauses to gaze at one on her tummy which looks particularly pink and irritated.
Alice: ...but they are a very pretty colour.
Alice: Are they chicken pox?
Me: We don't think so. [ed. They're not.]
Alice: They're so itchy!
Me: I know.
Alice: I want to scratch them!
Me: I know.
Alice: I don't like them!
Me: I know.
She pauses to gaze at one on her tummy which looks particularly pink and irritated.
Alice: ...but they are a very pretty colour.
Glitter
It's the day after Easter. I am sick as a dog.
I am in the kitchen. I am coughing.
Alice would like very much to see the Easter egg on the counter. It is a lovely blue and green egg with sprinkles of glitter.
I pick it up. I hand it to her. Her eyes light up.
Alice: It's so.... sparkly.
I look at my fingers. They are covered in glitter. Through my influenza fog, I think of how hard this stuff will be to wash off. I think about how even after a thorough washing, I will still, hours later, find flecks of glitter on my fingers and likely my face.
Me: I hate sparkles.
Alice is silent. Her smile melts. She walks from the room.
Me: Oh, Alice... that's not what I meant...
She is gone. I am coughing. I must sit down.
***
Minutes later...
She returns.
Alice: Do boys not like glitter?
Me: Oh, Alice. Boys like glitter. I'm really sorry I said I hate sparkles. I didn't mean it like I said it. I should have said I don't like how they stick to my skin. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I think glitter is very pretty.
We are friends again.
***
Minutes later...
I sit on the couch next to Jane. I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and blast my nose into it.
Jane is staring at me. She says nothing. She seems... displeased.
Me: You okay?
Her eyes narrow.
Jane: Is it true you hate sparkles?
I am in the kitchen. I am coughing.
Alice would like very much to see the Easter egg on the counter. It is a lovely blue and green egg with sprinkles of glitter.
I pick it up. I hand it to her. Her eyes light up.
Alice: It's so.... sparkly.
I look at my fingers. They are covered in glitter. Through my influenza fog, I think of how hard this stuff will be to wash off. I think about how even after a thorough washing, I will still, hours later, find flecks of glitter on my fingers and likely my face.
Me: I hate sparkles.
Alice is silent. Her smile melts. She walks from the room.
Me: Oh, Alice... that's not what I meant...
She is gone. I am coughing. I must sit down.
***
Minutes later...
She returns.
Alice: Do boys not like glitter?
Me: Oh, Alice. Boys like glitter. I'm really sorry I said I hate sparkles. I didn't mean it like I said it. I should have said I don't like how they stick to my skin. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I think glitter is very pretty.
We are friends again.
***
Minutes later...
I sit on the couch next to Jane. I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and blast my nose into it.
Jane is staring at me. She says nothing. She seems... displeased.
Me: You okay?
Her eyes narrow.
Jane: Is it true you hate sparkles?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)