It's The Little Things

This morning when she walked from her father's house she was as cute as a button. She wore her school logo sweatshirt, her dark blue skorts with very colorful leggings. Her school shoes had a shine. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail and she carried a pillow pet. Purple. She walked directly to my leg and gave it my morning hug.

It was a morning for questions.

In the truck and down the road, "Papa, did you remember to bring my snacks?"

"Yes, Honey, Papa remembered."

"Rice Krispie Treats," I said yes. She squeals in delight. It's the little things...

When I turn the nose of the truck towards the sunrise, she takes her rose colored sunglasses (really, rose tinted) and puts them on and takes my arm and places it on her pillow pet, just so. I asked why she liked my arm, just so. "Because it makes me feel good, Papa."  I love this child.

Along the marsh the ducks and geese, as is their morning routine, move from the lake towards the river and we count their numbers. "Papa, why can't birds fly in reverse?"

"They can, Little Bit."

"How?"

"They just point their noses in the opposite direction."

"Oh."  Then, after a few moments of thought, "Papa, that's just silly." 

I agreed.

Soon we approach the second of two bridges, a special bridge. The pavement at the foot of the bridge has a slight rise and forms a 'fun' bump. When the bump is hit at the proper speed it gives one that slight 'belly drop' sensation. Little Bit loves it. Thing is, she always covers her face and never actually watches as we ride over the bump.

"Here it comes. Get ready."

She places her face deep into the pillow pet and begins an endless series of giggles. "Go fast, Papa, go fast."

Afterward, as her squeals of delight fade, "Papa, why does it make my tummy feel good?"

"Because, Honey, there's a little man in your tummy and when your tummy floats he reaches and tickles the bottom of your belly button."

Silence. Then a smile.

Then a frown.

In one rapid outburst, "Papa, what is debt? Because Daddy said he's got to go into debt and him and mommy fought about it last night and he made me go to my room and I didn't like it cause they screamed at each other and I cried, Papa."

Sigh.

"Little Bit."

She has her head back on the pillow pet, her friend, with her arms locked around mine. We're close to our destination. It was, such a nice morning.

"What, Papa."

I explained debt, and continued,  "Do you know why Daddy must go into debt?"

"They had a leak in their bedroom last week when it rained, Papa, and the rain leaked real bad and came down on their ceiling fan and the fan took the rain and slung the water all around in a big circle in the bedroom and soaked their bed, and they made me sleep on the couch and they took my bed, Papa, and I didn't like it."

She took a deep breath. She gives me her big brown eyes, and waits.

"So, you were able to camp out." She blinks. Then, "Oh, yeah, I did."

"Don't feel bad about Daddy sending you to your room, Sweetheart. When parents argue they forget about their children and seem to always ask them to go to their bedrooms. You're not in trouble. Mommy and Daddy just have a problem which will cost them a lot of money. Don't worry about it. Papa will help."

"Papa."

"What, Honey."

" Thank you, Papa, but I still need to know why birds can't fly in reverse."

I'll think of an answer, soon.


Stephen