My 7-year-old daughter has a friend who moved a few towns away.
My daughter was sad.
I – not quite as much.
The friend (let’s call her Emma) is a sweet girl but VERY chatty. She would also relentlessly ask for playdates. I could barely get a breather from the last playdate and she wanted to come over again. And she had a lot of opinions on many things. Like she was dismayed that I didn’t serve soda with dinner.
“Drink water,” I suggested. “It’s refreshing.”
“I only drink soda. Do you have any Coke?” Emma responded.
“We don’t drink soda. Juice?” I offered.
“No. I won’t drink anything.”
Well, we ran into her this weekend.
I had 2-year-old Chase with me. Emma immediately asked the whereabouts of his twin sister Harlowe.
“Oh she’s at home,” I explained.
“With who?” she asked because apparently this 7-year-old girl is deeply interested in my childcare situation.
“My dad is taking care of her.”
“I thought your dad was dead,” Emma said.
“No, not dead. But I’ll definitely tell him you say hello.”