Families around us laugh and chatter, and a couple nearby is even singing along to “Let It Snow” playing over the loudspeaker. The windows of the neighboring businesses are all decked out in tinsel, with wreaths on their doors and glittery letters proclaiming Christmas sales. I can smell hot chocolate from a nearby vendor, and I make a mental plan to buy us all some after we’re done skating.
When we reach the front of the line to get our skates, I’m humming a few bars of the latest song playing around us. I give the girls’ sizes and mine to the teenage girl working at the counter and gesture for Ivy to add hers as I pull out my credit card.
She shakes her head. “I basically invited myself. I can get this.”
“Let’s call it a big thank-you for all the free babysitting.” I nod toward the shop employee.
Ivy sighs. “Eight and a half.”
I tap my credit card to pay while the girl grabs the skates and sets them on the counter. Ivy takes hers and Scarlett’s, and I gather mine and Zoey’s. We head to an empty bench to get everyone switched over. I kneel on the cold concrete in front of Zoey to help her with her skates, but she frowns at them.
“I want pink, Daddy,” she says.
“I know you love pink, but all we have is white today.” I slip a fur-lined boot off her foot and reach for the skate.
Zoey yanks her foot away. “No. I always get pink skates with Carlie,” she says, her tone rising.
I stay calm. A three-year-old losing their cool on a vacation is par for the course as a dad. I just hope I can defuse the situation before she goes full tantrum. I’m still kind of exhausted, and I’m begging for an easy out just this once. “This is a different place than the rink you go to with Carlie, sweetie,” I say in a gentle tone. “They only have white here.”
“No!” Zoey screeches, and all hope for defusing the situation goes out the window. “I WANT PINK!”
Ivy turns to me, eyes wide, and presses her lips together. She probably would’ve mentioned something if this had happened with Zoey while they were at the lights last night. Worry runs through me that Ivy will get annoyed or frustrated with Zoey’s silly tantrum.
That doesn’t even matter. I lean in closer, prepared to calm Zoey down with gentle words. Hopefully I can convince her somehow that white skates would be awesome for today.
“Zo—” Ivy starts, and then she clamps her lips shut. “Sorry. Can I help? I can see if I can distract Zoey or help Scarlett so you can focus on Zoey. Or I can step completely back.” Her voice is calm, and she offers a small smile.
My worry dissolves, replaced with admiration that she’s notjudging or freaking out or looking around to see who’s witnessing the meltdown or trying to shush Zoey. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not a sign, Chad. It doesn’t mean she’s automatically wife material.
“Daddy!” Zoey cries. “Why can’t I have pink?”
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” I say, but she cries louder. Maybe the fact that the girls are obsessed with Ivy could help. “You could try distracting her?” I say to Ivy. “She loves you. It could work.”
She nods quickly. “That’s what I was wondering. It’s worth a shot.”
I shuffle back on my knees, out of the way as she slides over. She takes Zoey’s cheeks gently in her hands. Zoey still wails, but she doesn’t resist Ivy’s touch, which is a good sign.
“Zoey,” she says, her voice soft.
Zoey takes a breath and looks at her but then cries again about wanting pink skates.
“I’m sorry you’re sad about your skates,” Ivy says, frowning at Zoey. She’s using a tactic the girls’ psychologist taught me right away, reflecting her feelings back to her so she sees that Ivy understands. I know Ivy has the education to help people like this—I witnessed it last night. But to see her shift so effortlessly into working with a child is still impressive.
I remind myself that doesn’t mean I should date her ASAP.
“Miss Ivy, I want pink!” Zoey’s still crying and her voice is still loud, but she’s lowered it from screaming. That’s a win.
Scarlett scoots over to sit next to Zoey, slipping her hand into her sister’s. “I wish I had pink skates too. I’m really sad they don’t have them.”
Zoey’s cries stop, though her sweet little bottom lip is still sticking out in a way that breaks my heart. Honestly, my heart is having a bit of whiplash, seeing Scarlett step up in such a big-sister way for only being five. It’s one of those moments that reassures me I’m doing okay, despite all the mistakes I’ve made raising these girls.
Zoey has turned to Scarlett, so Ivy doesn’t say anything. Shestill kneels in front of the girls, her hands on their knees as she watches them.
“Carlie always gets us pink skates,” Zoey says.
“The skating rink at home has pink skates. This one doesn’t.” Scarlett’s voice is matter-of-fact, and Zoey’s lips tremble as she stares at her sister.
“Carlie’s good at lots of things, isn’t she?” Ivy says, leaning in a little closer. “Do you miss her, Zoey?”
