I’ll never share it with Lisa again.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I sit on the edge of the bed and grab the closest shirt to wipe my tears. It’s only when the faint scent of strawberries hits my nose that I notice I’m crying into the shirt Iris borrowed from me. I still haven’t washed it, so the smell of her shampoo is still in the fabric.
Great. Now I have to wash it. I’d been hoping to hold onto that scent a little longer.
I drag myself off the bed and walk over to the hamper, tossing the shirt in. Goodbye, strawberries.
Maybe I’ll ask Iris for one of her shirts or something. Borrow a pillowcase …
Wait! She’ll be staying here while she’s watching Hailey! I’ll just invite her to sleep in my bed, so she’s more comfortable. That way her hair can infuse its scent into something of mine again. I wouldn’t want her sleeping on the couch anyway. Too easy to get a crick in her neck or something.
Inwardly I cringe at my creeper thoughts. Iris would probably run screaming for the hills if she knew I was plotting on getting hold of something with the smell of her shampoo on it.
I shut the suitcase with probably more force than necessary and carry it downstairs to set the stage for Monday morning. When I get to the living room, Hailey has all her dolls spread out on the floor, each one in a different stage of hair catastrophe. It seems my daughter wants to try braiding, too, though she’s doing it with absolutely no help.
Well, she’s trying.
“Hey, hon. What are you up to with all this?”
Hailey looks up from a Rapunzel doll that’s seen better hair days and grins. “I’m learnin’ how to braid hair like you and Miss Iris.”
Judging from the huge knots she’s tied in Rapunzel’s hair, she’s got a while before she’ll be successful. I sit down on the floor next to her and gently take Rapunzel from her hands, along with the toy brush. “Here. Let Daddy show you.”
“’Kay.”
She scoots closer and watches as I brush out the knots and separate the doll’s hair into three strands. I take my time showing her, more so than with Iris, because Hailey can be squirrely. She gets distracted easily, and I want this to be something that sticks. When I’m done with Rapunzel, I show her how the braid should look.
“Now Hailey, remember this will be harder on your own hair. You won’t be able to see the strands to know which one is going which way.”
Hailey shrugs it off. “Oh, I don’t want to braid my own hair. I wanna braid Miss Iris’s. That way we can be twins!”
Oh no. Poor Iris. I should call her and warn her.
“Well, let’s get lots of practice at it so you’re really, really good, okay?”
She nods and snatches Rapunzel from me, starting in again on another attempt.
Two hours later, Hailey has mastered a simple braid as well as can be expected for a four-year-old. I hope and pray that Iris’s hair isn’t ruined when I get back from my trip. Iris has such gorgeous hair; I’d hate for her to have to cut out a knot that Hailey put in it.
We go out back for a couple of hours for some play time in the back yard before taking a break for dinner, and Hailey does her best to help me cook. She doesn’t have the coordination for chopping or stirring, so I have her hand me the things I need. She gets to feel like she’s helping, but I don’t let her do anything that might get her hurt. Hailey’s a smart kid, so she’s already learned to stay away from the stove and oven until I tell her she’s old enough, and she knows which veggie is which when I ask for a specific one.
I feel a little guilty not inviting Iris over for dinner, but there’s too much to get done. I still need to write down Hailey’s routine, plus there are days’ worth of prep in the kitchen. I’ll do most of that after Hailey goes to bed, but I’m sure it would just bore Iris. The last thing I want to do is bore her to death. That’s a terrible way to start a relationship.
After dinner, Hailey and I snuggle on her beanbag chair and watch one of her favorite movies. I’ve seen the film dozens of times, but if it makes her happy, I’ll watch it again. While we watch, I take a notebook and start writing down everything about Hailey’s day that I can think of. Bedtime, bath time, what snacks she does and doesn’t like, how many snacks she’s allowed to have in a day, how many toys she’s allowed to bring if they decide to go to a restaurant … Everything I think of that Iris might need to know. Before long, I’ve got three pages filled.
And I write small.
Hailey peeks over my shoulder at the notebook. “Are you writing a book, Daddy?”
“Yep. It’s a book about you.”
That tears her attention away from the TV. “Ooh! Is it a good book?”
“Of course! It’s the best book, because it’s all about your day. When you wake up, when you eat, when you brush your teeth, when you practice your reading …”
Her wrinkled nose mirrors the look she gave when Iris first braided her hair. “That sounds boring, Daddy. You should add some adventures. I know! I could be a fairy princess, and the animals can do all the boring stuff for me.”
“Even fairy princesses have to brush their own teeth, Hailey.”
